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The Heart of Lorkhan, the source of power which he had just seen vanquish Dumac in a split moment. The very thing he now realised could give him a world of power, anything he has ever dreamed of, even more power than he had now as the High Councillor of House Dagoth. He could become a God. A thrilling temptation indeed, but he knew that it would be wrong. So instead, Voryn Dagoth waited.
He waited for the conclusion his friend, Nerevar, would come to as he consulted his assistants and the Goddess Azura. However, the longer he waited, the more the power tempted him, and the more wariness filled his mind, already wrecked from the recent events.
Stupid Nerevar; he had been the one to warn the Hortator, telling him that the Heart could be misused by many, especially him. In response, his closest friend had commanded him to guard the Heart and the tools which would allow access to the very power that tempted him. Of course, Nerevar trusted him. Voryn had never given him any reasons not to, and he was loyal to the God, so of course he agreed. A grave mistake.
Now, the longer he stood there before the Heart, the more his own churned with concern; what was taking them so long? Nerevar had already been weakened during the battle with the Dwemer, so he didn’t want this to drag out for much longer.
With a sudden pang, the very atmosphere seemed to shift around him. It wasn’t anything to do with the Heart, it was something different. Something worse. The wrath of Azura was upon the world. He felt something change all around him, throughout all of Vvardenfell and possibly even Morrowind, something shifting deep inside the heart of every Chimer.
A horrible feeling engulfed him, and Voryn’s spirit broke; he took the tools and in a second, broke his promise to Nerevar. The next second, he was a God. He could feel the power coursing through his body, a strength and omnipotence unlike anything else. Despite the overwhelming power, he felt a pit deep down in his chest, and he dreaded to know the reason. What did Azura do, and what prompted her to execute her wrath across the land?
As he finally entered the cave in which his friend had gathered his advisors beforehand, he was met with a blasphemous sight, one which made his very heart break and his newfound power course through him. A power fuelled by anger and a deep, crushing sorrow. Indeed, the wrath of a God had been invoked, but this time, Voryn was the God.
Nerevar. His friend, companion, his Moon and Star, whom he had sworn his loyalty to until death.
That very person now lay dead before him in a violent scene. It looked as if his very face and feet have been cleaved off. A spear pierced through his chest as if his sacred body was a trophy to show off.
The spear. He knew who it belonged to, and this caused him to look from his friend’s mutilated body and up at the murderers behind it; Nerevar’s own wife, Almalexia, and his two closest advisors, Sotha Sil and Vivec, whose traitorous hands gripped the bloodied spear. He had never liked or trusted any of them, but he tolerated them for his friend’s sake. What an awful feeling, to be proved right.
“What have you done?” he asked, his voice unfamiliar, not only due to his godly power but also due to the emotion fighting to escape.
It was the spear-bearer who spoke, their voice calm, “It had to be done, Nerevar was dying already. We saved him. Allowed him a chance to be reborn.”
Lies. Of course, the ‘warrior-poet’ would have some sort of outrageous excuse for this power-hungry move. Furious, Voryn looked at each of their faces. The remorseless expressions were ones which would be burnt into his memory forever, fuelling his hatred and would surely be a source of nightmares. He was about to attack, to take revenge, to destroy them in any way he thought possible and use his newfound power.
Yet he remained still. He hated himself for it, but all he could do was kneel at Nerevar’s body, staring with unfocused eyes, unbelieving of the sight before him. A physical pain worse than the one of his previous injuries was spreading and overwhelming his entire being, tuning out anything else around him.
It was worse than any pain he had experienced before.
And then, it was too late.
Before he had registered what was going on, the three murderers had followed in his steps and stolen the power of the Heart, claiming the Tools as ther own. He didn’t stand a chance, so instead, he wept, clutching the dead God close, hoping his own power would somehow rouse him from the dead, but Nerevar’s body only grew colder.
In that moment, Voryn Dagoth felt himself disappearing, dying beside his Nerevar, staying by his side just as he had vowed to; until the very end.
In his place, Dagoth Ur formed, the very name Nerevar had called him. A rueful God, fuelled by rage and grief and hatred. Dagoth Ur made a new promise to his dear friend, one which he wouldn’t dare break. He would ensure the downfall of the False Gods.