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Yneerwa never found themselves to be that special.
They didn’t differ from the other Sea Elves home on Pyandonea as much as you might think. They liked the warm tropical temperatures and they used to go out with the other children from their village to find the mysterious southern water spirits that, according to legend, had made the mist-shrouded island their home. They enjoyed bonding with their sea serpent, Zangas, who had been a gift from their parents on the day they met their seventh year, in the year 183 of the Fourth Era.
“Yneerwa”, their parents had said, “it’s important for you to learn how to tame the serpents that live in these waters.”
They had told them about their people’s king, Orgnum, who was the first to tame these, usually vicious, beasts when their kin were first exiled from the idyllic lands of Aldmeris many Eras ago. It was said that not only was King Orgnum immortal, close confidants of the king alleged that he also grew younger with every passing century. As a child, Yneerwa often found themselves wondering about the implications of the king’s condition, should another five Eras come to pass, but their parents always said not to let speculations of this nature distract them from their studies and training.
One might think that their parentage was what made Yneerwa special.
Their mother, Chelmul, was a powerful Storm Caller, a mage with the ability to conjure up disastrous storms, which used to be quite a useful tactic in the raids of the Summerset Isles, up until the 110th year of the Third Era. Jecoar, their father however, was from the tribe of the Seafarers, who sailed the treacherous seas of the Eltheric Ocean. He was a very able scout and hunter, capable of spotting boats of overenthusiastic explorers or scholars, and taking them out with a single arrow.
Children of different tribe members, while uncommon, were nothing too notable though.
Yneerwa’s upbringing was most ordinary as well, despite their parents’ occasional arguments about who they took after more. Physically, their blue skin resembled that of Jecoar more, but the patterns that wound themselves around their arms and legs, looking like thin bolts of lightning, were typical for the mages of the Storm Callers.
When at eight, Yneerwa came home with one of the strange insects that inhabited their continent, which they had trapped and stealthily snuck up on, their father was overjoyed, celebrating his child’s excellent hunting abilities.
However, when at fifteen years old, Yneerwa got into an argument with one of the male Maormer from their village, which quickly turned vicious and had Yneerwa boiling with rage, they inadvertently released a bolt of lightning from their hands that struck the boy where he stood, leaving quite the large mark on his face. That evening, the entire village celebrated with Chelmul, as no one had expected another Storm Caller to come from their humble settlement.
Chelmul trained her child as best she could for the better part of four years. Then, in 4E 195, Yneerwa’s father passed, attacked by rogue bandits while travelling to Etho Sul.
Yneerwa took a break from their studies, they took time, both to care for their mother and to mourn their father.
Another year passed, and Chelmul sent them off to Codrah, one of the most powerful mages on Pyandonea, asking him to continue training them. Codrah was an old friend of Jercoa’s and he took every opportunity to tell his apprentice about how much they resembled their father, both physically and in terms of their stubborn demeanor and wit.
Yneerwa didn’t mind being taught by the old Mer, he was direct and knew both of theory and practice of Magicka. However, after a year, they found themselves longing for more, for adventure instead of quiet study.
Now this is the very thing that distinguished Yneerwa from their fellow Maormer. An insatiable curiosity, a thirst for knowledge for knowledge’s sake, not merely to gain power. Even as a young Mer, they always tried to swim out into the ocean, see what was past the heavy mist that enveloped Pyandonea.
The Maormer despised the people of Tamriel and they despised the Altmer of Summerset more than any other, for they were the ones who exiled them millennia ago and they were responsible for the harrowing defeat the Pyandonean armies suffered back in the Third Era.
Yneerwa knew this, this is what they had been taught all their life. Yet, they longed to see this enchanting, wondrous island for themselves, experience the culture and society of the Altmer, learn what made them distinct from their own people.
Thus, they had taken to swimming out into the open ocean, wondering how long it would take them until they’d see land. They did this most nights, when they were certain their teacher couldn’t possibly find out about their escapades.
At least so they thought, until one day, when, while dodging a bombardment of Codrah’s lightning bolts, the elder Mer struck up a casual conversation. This in itself was not an unusual occurrence, he did this quite often, in order to keep his apprentice on their feet, keep their mind sharp and focused.
“Yneerwa!”
Their head whipped around, facing their superior.
“Codrah?” Yneerwa never could bring themselves to call him by anything other than his name, a fact which, while bothersome at first, was something Codrah had come to accept, and even appreciate. His student wasn’t one for such arbitrarily established terms of respect like “Master”, and Codrah knew to value this.
“What do you expect to find when you swim out at night? Mermaids?”
Yneerwa stopped dead in their tracks, just barely avoiding another spell that instead hit a barrel just past them, incinerating it in an instant.
“I thought you wanted me to learn and educate myself on our world!”
Another barrel went up in blue flames.
“Knowledge is a noble goal of course, but never at the price of your own safety!”
Yneerwa scoffed, jumping onto a banister to evade a ground-level bolt. “What’s the worst that could happen, a slaughterfish nibbling at my ankles?!”
“You know nothing of the dangers past the mist.”
Frustration was starting to boil in the student’s stomach and they felt the lightest spark of lightning dancing around their fingertips. “What do you know, you’ve never even left this godsforsaken island!”
“That’s enough, Yneerwa.”
But Yneerwa was just getting started, clenching their fists so as to not release a fatal storm of lightning onto their teacher. “I bet you’re just scared! You’re scared because, if you ever actually got out into the world, you’d have to admit that there’s no horrible dangers lurking everywhere. You’d have to admit you were wrong about everything but your stupid high ego just couldn’t take that, could it?”
“I said, that’s enough!” Codrah’s voice was like thunder now and, before Yneerwa knew what had happened, they found themself thrown into the air and backwards, taken aback by a powerful shockwave, before they finally landed on their back, several yards away.
Hours later, Yneerwa was still shaking with rage. After the confrontation on the training field, they had retired to their quarters and refused to come out the rest of the day. They figured their back was hurt rather badly, though not nearly as bad as their pride. Codrah, the person who had taught them for more than a year, the person who, on multiple occasions, remarked upon his student’s quite impressive prowess, he was now the one to indicate they weren’t strong enough to face whatever was out there.
“Just you wait, old man.”, they mumbled as they tightened the laces of their boots and pulled on their hood, allowing it to cover their eyes almost completely. They stepped out into the small hours of the day and, careful not to make a sound that might give them away, made their way to the small dock near Codrah’s training facility. Nobody even used the old, somewhat brittle, boats anymore, surely nobody would notice it if one disappeared for a day.
The Eltheric Ocean was calm, quite a rare occurrence, as the sea was usually home to bitter winds and monstrous waves, waiting to swallow up unwary sailors. After a few hours, Yneerwa finally passed through the thick mist which had enveloped their homeland for millennia.
Beyond the barrier, a most beautiful sight presented itself: The sea here was a deep cyan, with only small ripples disturbing its surface every so often. This was the first time they had ever seen water that wasn’t gray as storm clouds, and Yneerwa could barely resist the urge to dive into the deep water, craving to see if it was this clear beneath the surface.
They allowed their boat to sit idly for a while, simply taking in every sensation. When they opened their eyes, they felt a sense of contentment they hadn’t known in many years. Continuing to steer northwest, they soon made out what appeared to be another boat, this one approaching theirs.
Yneerwa felt a lump form in their throat as the second boat made its way towards them, until they were able to discern two figures, which seemed to be in a rather intense argument. Another few feet closer, they saw golden skin shining in the sun’s bright light. An Altmeri boat.
It wasn’t long before they could make out more facial features. The passengers were two male Altmer, both of different ages. The younger Mer had a worried, almost scared expression on his face.
Fear started to swell in Yneerwa’s chest, with doubt filling their head. Perhaps Codrah had been right all along?
They attempted to row their boat backwards, get out of the Altmer’s way, but the boat wouldn’t budge.
Yneerwa saw the elder Mer raise his hand up, from which a strange yellow ray emitted and took a hold of them, forcing them into darkness.
Yneerwa awoke, in pain, to a knocking at their door. Ilmerion stood before them, holding a plate with what looked like bread and a few apple slices.
“Are you hungry? This is all I could find right now, I know it’s not a lot.”
Yneerwa managed something resembling a smile. Ilmerion was kind, or at least as kind as an abductor could be. He had been the younger of the two Altmer Yneerwa happened upon gods-know-how-many months ago.
As Ilmerion had told them, he and Erucelmo, his master and a revered scholar on Summerset, were looking to discover a new species of sea creature when they intercepted their small boat. Erucelmo was ecstatic at the idea of bringing a real Maormer back to the Isle, a completely unique subject for further studies.
Erucelmo wasn’t nearly as kind as his apprentice though, subjecting Yneerwa to countless experiments and examinations, one more cruel than the last.
Ilmerion explained that his master was simply fascinated with their race and wished to learn about the way these Sea Elves differed from the, as he put it, biologically superior High Elves.
Ilmerion sat down next to them, setting down the plate in his lap. He reached out, attempting to brush Yneerwa’s hair out of their face. They tried to pull away, but they were already backed into the corner, as far away from his grasp as they could.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
His voice was kind and Yneerwa knew he meant well, yet they couldn’t stop the smallest whimper from escaping their lips as he cupped their cheek, tracing over the big vertical scar under their right eye.
As he leaned in, touching his forehead against theirs, his hand now entangled in their long hair, Yneerwa felt it again.
The rage and the shame and the sadness.
Every emotion, every little thing they’ve forced themselves to push down all these months, it was all coming up, pounding against their chest, pleading to be let out.
Yneerwa felt it again, the sensation of energy around their fingertips. They had tried to conjure it up time and time again, always in vain.
But it was back now, and stronger than ever.
Not the reluctant bolts of lightning they had known before, no.
This time, as the emotions threatened to swallow them up, they felt as though a raging storm was trapped in their palm, growing stronger with each and every touch at the hands of the young Altmer.
They wanted to say something, anything, to get Ilmerion away.
They really did.
But they couldn’t, it was as if their mouth had been sewn shut.
All they felt were Ilmerion’s hand on their skin, fuelling the turmoil of emotions, and the pounding of their own heart.
They were convinced they heard their blood flowing.
Their eyes were shut tight, they saw nothing but darkness.
Until there was light.
They saw the brightest light they had ever seen. They felt the shackles fall from their wrists and they smelled smoulder.
And then they heard Ilmerion yell.
The Altmer had been thrown across the room, where he violently slammed against the wall and now lay, unmoving.
Yneerwa shook their head, attempting to banish the images from their mind. A futile effort.
They weren’t certain if Ilmerion had survived.
They had left anyway.
They had left without giving it a second thought.
“There was no time,” they kept telling themselves, “the old mage could have come back at any moment.”
If they said it enough times maybe one day they’d actually believe it.
“What’s going on with you?”
A short Redguard stood before them, so short in fact, that he had to tilt his chin up quite a bit, just to look at them.
The man, who had refused to give up his name, was gruff, and not too friendly either, but when Yneerwa happened upon him while trying to escape the seemingly endless forests of Summerset, he had promised them passage on his ship, saying he’d get them away from this Isle of High Elves.
According to him they were headed to Skyrim, the frozen land to the North, which was inhabited by the brute race of Men who called themselves Nords. Yneerwa couldn’t care less, anywhere that wasn’t Summerset would do just fine at this point.
“What, did you swallow your own tongue, Elf?”
“I was just… thinking, is all.”
“Well, don’t think too hard, you might hurt your fish brain. We’re about to dock in Windhelm, but from then on, you’re on your own. Piece of advice: if you wanna stay alive, try to hitch a ride to Winterhold. It’s mostly ruins these days, except for the college and a few shops, but it’s still a better place than Windhelm, especially for someone with your… ear shape.”
Yneerwa nodded, they were far too exhausted to inquire about what the Redguard meant and instead just accepted that they’d use the money from Erucelmo’s home to try and get to Winterhold in one piece.
Pyandonea was so far away now.