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The empty black soul gem feels cold as you turn it within your hand. It’s a deep violet color, almost black, especially in the darkness of the night surrounding you. But the nearby fire sheds some light, enough to catch on the crystal in your palm, and make some of its purple hue stand out.
You continue to turn it over in your hand, feeling the surface of smooth and jagged points alike on your skin.
It’s one of the many items you picked up from the damned realm of Oblivion. A name as chilling as Apocrypha suits it. It’s been hours now since you came back, but the memory of moving walls, whipping tentacles, and seemingly endless stacks of books, is still fresh in your mind.
Although, so is the image of monstrous Seekers and Lurkers. Of dragon after dragon landing on the battlefield, only to be killed and drained in front of you. Of Miraak crumbling before you in a heap of robes and weapons, with nothing but bones leftover. And of Hermaeus Mora looming over you, telling- no, commanding - you to serve them.
A chill runs down your spine and you close your fist around the soul gem. You look up to your surroundings instead. You look in front of you, at a small and cozy fire instead of a mass of tentacles. You look above you, at a dark sky covered in clouds instead of green swirls. You look to your feet, where a blanket of soft snow resides, instead of black stone and toxic liquid that shifts and moves.
You’re not there anymore. Whether you will return one day is still up for debate, but as of right now, you’re not there anymore.
Frea was kind enough to let you stay in Skaal village. She and the other villagers made it clear you were welcome to stay there as long as you needed, but you planned on staying for the night only. Hopefully, that’s all you need to gather yourself, to shake off the weight of what has happened recently, then you can go back to …
To what?
You feel a dip in your belly. You’d been so caught up in taking care of this whole Miraak thing, that you don’t know what comes after. Do you return to Skyrim, and try to forget this whole thing? Or do you stay on Solstheim, exploring and uncovering the land you risked so much to save?
The crunching of boots on snow pulls you out of your thoughts. You turn just in time to see someone taking a seat next to you, on the other edge of the small log.
“Feel free to shoo me away,” Teldryn starts, his raspy voice reminding you of the flames crackling before you. “But I thought you could use some company.”
He offers you a familiar bottle - it takes you a moment to recognize it as sujamma, likely from the Netch itself. It's a pleasant sight indeed. You’d both been so busy traveling and battling that you almost never had a chance to sit and enjoy a relaxing beverage.
Warmth floods your chest as you smile gratefully at him. “I’d be a fool to refuse.”
You take the bottle and he takes out his own. You pop the lid off the top and lift it to your lips. The chilled drink is thick and sweet, and runs smoothly down your throat. Almost instantly, your tense muscles relax a bit, and some of the uneasiness clouding your mind lifts.
You lower the bottle and sigh. “Ah, I needed this,” you murmur. “Thank you.”
Teldryn chuckles. “Just drink it slowly,” he advises. “These are our only bottles. And I’m not looking to drink the mead around here.” The slight disgust in his voice makes you laugh a little.
He pulls down the fabric of his cowl just past his chin and lifts his own bottle to take a swig. You look at him for a moment. Aside from the outermost pieces of his Chitin armor being removed, he’s still in his usual getup - including that damned helmet. You do wish he would take it off, especially now that a small part of his face is showing.
He lowers his bottle, and your eyes flick back to the fire in front of you.
It crackles softly, and casts a cozy glow around you. The warmth provided is comforting, especially in the chilly grip of the night air. You watch the flames dance for a moment, sitting in silence.
“How are you holding up?” Teldryn finally asks in a surprisingly gentle tone.
You inhale slowly, cold air filling your lungs. It comes out shaky. Your hand clenches around your bottle as you struggle to come up with an answer.
“Fine,” you say.
Teldryn snorts. “That’s convincing.”
You roll your eyes. “Really, I am.” There’s a pause, then, “A part of me is, at least.”
“And the other part?”
Another bout of silence passes, save for the crackling of the fire. You look down at the beverage in your hand, swirling the dark liquid within its container.
“I’m .. not sure,” you say meekly.
The Dunmer gives a quiet sigh. “I figured.” He leans forward on the log slightly, and his shoulder brushes yours slightly. “What’s on your mind?”
You almost laugh at the question. What’s not on my mind? If you opened your mouth and uttered the smallest thing about the experience, there is no guarantee it wouldn’t all come spilling out. Every monster, every dragon, every slash of a weapon and every spell of magic used on that battlefield.
But Teldryn knows about Apocrypha. He’d been there for you every single time you came out of the realm, when the book would close and you were pulled back to reality. He was there to hold you up when your legs were still shaky and he was there to listen when you talked about the horrors of it.
So instead of once again cursing his ears with the revolting details of the realm and battles you encountered, you tell him about the one thought seeming to linger above all the rest.
“I’m wondering… if I could have saved him. Miraak.”
When Teldryn doesn’t say anything, you continue. You stare once more at the cup in your hand.
“I know I probably couldn’t - he was bound to Hermaeus Mora, and his rebellion was probably his own way of freeing himself.” You swallow hard past the beginnings of a lump forming in your throat. “But he was so much like me… another Dragonborn. I .. I couldn’t help but think of myself in his position. And I wonder if maybe there was some way to free him - to free both of us.”
Heavy silence falls once more. No more words come to you, so you opt for another sip of sujamma. Except it’s less of a sip and more of a gulp. A part of you is tempted to down the contents in one go and push yourself closer to simply forgetting Apocrypha - even if only for a night.
Teldryn next to you shifts as he takes a deep breath. You hear his fingers drumming on his bottle - a sign of him thinking.
“Perhaps you could have,” he says, then adds bluntly, “Or perhaps you simply would have doomed the both of you. We all know how generous those Daedric princes are.”
You smile at the sarcasm in his voice. You’ve come to learn it’s just a part of his language at this point - both a blessing and a curse.
“Either way, there’s no gain from dwelling on it,” he continues, his words firm but his tone soft. “You may not have saved Miraak, but you saved many others. Who knows what other curses would have befallen this island had you not interfered.”
You nod, thinking of the standing stones and the strange incidents that had happened there. A shiver runs down your back. Suddenly, you recall Frea’s words to you when you came back from the final battle, and your skin crawls with uneasiness.
“Hermaeus Mora expects me to serve him now,” you mutter. “I don’t think I’m done hearing from him.”
Teldryn scoffs. “Probably not. But you do have a say in whether you listen to him, serjo. ” He suddenly gives you a light bump with his shoulder as he goes for another drink. “I’d recommend not listening.”
You snicker. "Well, there goes my plan. What would I do without you?"
He grins at you. Even though it’s only part of his face, the sight is enough to make your heart swell a little.
Suddenly, a thought slips into your mind. Teldryn hadn’t just been there for you during the Black Book incidents. He had been there for you at every moment in between. He had followed you to every destination this mission took you on - from the depths of the Temple of Miraak to the massive ruins of Nchardak. Sometimes there were complaints and general whining, but he always followed you.
And now, he sits at your side, late at night when he could be doing anything else.
What would I do without you? Where would I be?
“You’re staring.” His words pull you right out of your thoughts. “Is my smile really that charming?” He widens his grin.
You can’t help but smile once more. “When you still have that helmet on, it’s more creepy than charming."
He laughs, a sound just as delightfully raspy and warm as his voice. “Such high praise.”
You fall into yet another comfortable silence, sipping on the rest of your sujamma. The beverage seeps through your body slowly, and with it, comes a much needed sensation of relaxation. You start to forget the soreness in your limbs.
You suddenly become aware of the quietness that surrounds you. In Apocrypha, there was always some eerie, haunting noise reaching your ears. Gurgling and groaning and growling from creatures and structures alike. You were always on edge, never knowing what would attack you or simply creep you out.
But now, it's peaceful. The landscape of snow is responsible for that. It softens all the noise of the forest and mountains, even the little that occurs at night. When you look off into the distance, there's nothing but a stretch of snow and trees. A much more comforting void to look at than Apocrypha.
“What’s our next move, daeljuhn ?” Teldryn’s question draws you back to reality once again. When you don’t answer right away - mostly because you’re busy tipping your bottle back and downing the rest of its contents - he adds, “What’s the first thing that comes to mind?”
You lower your bottle and exhale heavily. “Retching Netch. More sujamma.”
Your companion snorts. “Been a while since I heard an idea that good come out of your mouth.” He leans forward on the log, resting his arms on his legs. “Count me in, boss.”
His broad shoulder is grazing your own, and he’s radiating a surprising amount of warmth. You don’t know whether it's the exhaustion or the sense of comfort you’re feeling, but something compels you to inch closer to him.
You drop your head to lean it against his shoulder. Your eyelids feel heavy as you look back to the dwindling fire in front of you. “It has to be Geldis Sadri’s recipe, though,” you murmur, your voice lilting with exhaustion.
Teldryn chuckles. You feel him shifting a bit so that his own head is leaning against yours slightly. “You know, you’re quite the hero now. Perhaps he’ll give us a free bottle or two.”
You smile, eyes closing. You listen to the flames for a moment, and focus on the sturdy warmth of your friend next to you. Thoughts of Apocrypha slip away. Instead, you find yourself thinking of the trek back to Raven Rock that awaits you in the morning just before sleep blankets your mind.