Dimhollow Crypt, like many of the dozens of resting places of the ancient dead of the Dragon Cult was remote, a considerable distance from any settlements and they were forced to encamp once night fell. All their expectations of having to travel by night had been proven false by Serana’s simple act of walking out of the crypt, but out of all of them, it was definitely Kaius who was struggling with the revelation. Sofia had long since gotten used to his seemingly unique ability to withstand the light of the sun, and Lydia had immediately accepted it after months of travelling together, but it was obvious that Kaius had never really considered the fact that there could be others sharing his curse, who could exist in the sunlight.

  Like he had dozens of times before, Kaius had managed to light a small campfire, while Sofia pitched the two traveller’s tents, and Lydia gathered the wood needed to keep the flames going for the evening. While winter was a recent memory, frosts were still overwhelmingly common, and it allowed them to supplement their rations with the snowhares Kaius had managed to catch.

  “It’s at least three or four days to Morthal.” He had said simply, as he had expertly skinned and gutted the last of the hares. “We’ll stock up on supplies there and head to Dragon Bridge. All in all, it should be a week, maybe a week and a half to get into Haafingar.”

  In their travels, Sofia had come to enjoy watching the way Kaius went about preparing any game caught. Rabbits, deer, wild boar or otherwise, he had a skill and a knack with a knife that she had never seen before, and she watched as he slit the hares open, scooped the insides out and filled them with a collection of river stones for cooking. There was something disturbingly mesmerising about the way that he went about it with such precision and ease from many, many years of practice. He was so skilled in the motions that he could twirl the knife and cut the rabbits apart, without even looking at what he was doing. One time she had watched him perform the same process with a deer.

  “How certain are you that your… ‘family’ is still in the region?” Nearly every moment since the crypt, Lydia had been staring daggers at Serana and Kaius, and as they sat around the campfire the helmetless glare was intensifying. It wasn’t being helped with the strange dynamic in their campsite, with Lydia and Sofia sitting close, and Kaius and Serana sitting equal distances away from the pair, and each other at the same time.

  “I don’t.” Hidden under her acquired clothes and Kaius’s cloak, hugging her knees and with only a portion of her face visible under the hood, Serana seemed tiny, almost swallowed up in the fabric. “I don’t even know whether they still exist.”

  “Just… how old are you?” Seated next to Lydia, and watching the vampiress’s eyes reflecting the campfire, Sofia thought back to the way how Kaius had roughly told her his age the night they encountered Sanguine. Initially all she got back was a shrug in return as Serana looked at her with glowing eyes.

  “I don’t know.”

  “How old are you then?” If Lydia could be any more insubordinate with her tone and mannerisms she would have done so, throwing the barbed question at Kaius causing Sofia to wince from the tone. There was no more ‘yes my thane, no my thane, three-sacks-full my thane,’ from her anymore.

  “Two hundred and thirty-five.” Kaius said simply, tossing a handful of entrails into the hole dug into the soil at his side. “Give or take a year.”

  Only the crackling of the campfire could be heard as they all digested the information, and Sofia pulled her cloak tighter around herself from more than just the spring chill. Such a number somehow made her feel lonely, and it was an unusual feeling.

  “How long were you in that… place?” She asked instead, trying and failing to look the other vampire in the eye.

  “Good question.” For several moments Serana sat deep in thought, taking one of the freshly roasted snowhares from Kaius as he pulled the first one from the coals. “I… I can’t really tell.”

  Sofia handed Lydia her roasted hare, skewered on one of the thin steel roasting sticks that Kaius kept strapped to his travelling bag for just this purpose, and bit into her own. Lydia wasn’t even accepting food from Kaius at the moment, and would only look at him or acknowledge him with a glare or a voice filled with barely contained frustration. Serana though was something different, and had both of the other women on edge, especially as they watched the vampiress chewing thoughtfully on her hunk of roasted snowhare.

  When Kaius had come back into camp after his companions had a very uneasy hour alone with Serana, one of the rabbits he had brought back was still alive and twitching in his hand. Somehow, he had managed to catch it alive and unharmed and without any word of explanation or warning he had simply handed it to Serana who promptly bit its head off. Sofia couldn’t decide what was more horrifying; the way the vampiress had changed into her darker nature and unhinged her jaw slightly, the way she had simply chewed a few times before swallowing, or the way she had fastened her mouth around the stump and drained the corpse of blood before handing it back to Kaius.

  The more she thought of it, the worst part was the way Serana had looked horrified at what she had done for the briefest of moments, before returning to her seemingly usual, cold persona. She had seen the vampire within Serana in the crypt and knew, that just below the surface was a monster, just like the others that they had recently fought in Morthal, and the crypt. Sofia also knew Kaius well enough that his casual appearance was a charade, and that he was studying their new travelling companion, very, very intently. The hare, like everything else that day, had been a test of her abilities and what she was, especially since the revelation that she could resist sunlight.

  “I feel like it was a long time somehow.” Serana said after delicately picking the leg clean with her human, unchanged teeth. “Who is Skyrim’s h?gkonung?”

  “High-King?” Every so often, through the accent Serana would slip back into what was undeniably her native tongue, that both Sofia and Lydia struggled to translate. It was Nordic, or at least related to the various dialects of Skyrim’s holds but was… different somehow. Cruder, more rough or unpolished in comparison. “That’s actually a matter for debate.”

  “Oh, wonderful. Another war of succession.” Ignoring the way that Kaius had been snorting in amusement at Sofia’s tone, Serana flicked a tiny leg bone into the fire. “Good to know the world didn’t get boring while I was gone. Who are the contenders this time?”

  “The Empire supports Elisif the Fair.” Kaius said, pulling the last of the snowhares out of the fire by spearing it with the point of his sword. “But there are many in Skyrim loyal to Ulfric Stormcloak.”

  “Empire?” The look of confusion was impossible to ignore as Serana turned and frowned at Kaius. “What… What Empire?”

  “The… Empire.” Pulling the impaled rabbit away from his mouth and swallowing a mouthful of hot flesh he gestured about himself. “The Mede Empire. From Cyrodiil.”

  “Cyrodiil? Where’s Cyrodiil?” Realisation crossed Serana’s face and her mouth fell open in surprise. “You mean Cyrod? Cyrod is the seat of an empire? I must have been gone longer than I thought. Definitely longer than we planned… I need to get home so I can figure out what’s happened.”

  For the first time in hours, Lydia, Sofia and Kaius all shared expressions of confusion and unease as Serana tucked her legs up under her chin even tighter with both arms.

  “Tell me about your home.” His words were soft, but there was a tenseness running through Kaius now, one that outmatched his earlier unease around Serana.

  “It’s on an island several days west of Solitude.” Huddled under the cloak and overlarge clothing, the vampiress seemed somewhat small despite her obvious nature. “It’s my family home. Not the most welcoming place, but depending on who’s around I’ll be safe there.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Why wouldn’t you be safe there?” Leaning forward, Sofia spat a chunk of gristle into the flames that sizzled and spat. “We all saw what you did to those draugr back in the crypt, and beside that, you’re a vampire to boot.”

  “Let’s just say that my mother and father had a bit of a falling out.” She caught Kaius's expression and gave what Sofia guessed was a reassuring smile, not that she needed the assurance but at least there weren’t any hints of fangs in the grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not in any danger or anything like that. It’ll just be more unpleasant to run into my father.”

  “He sounds like quite the guy.” There was absolutely no mistaking the threat in Lydia’s voice as she finished her meal and dragged her axe over her lap. There was also no mistaking the intent as she went about the process of scraping the edge clean and sharp again with a whetstone, all the while watching Serana.

  “So who was High King before you… well, you know.” Sofia asked, partially because she was curious in a morbid kind of way.

  “Well, King Olaf had passed away a year or two before, and I never really found out who was named as his successor. He went to all the trouble of capturing a dragon to end a war. It looks like wars of succession are to be the norm.”

  Again Lydia and Sofia shared a glance and their unease was mirrored by Kaius as he stopped in place, showing the most amount of emotions that either of them had ever seen. Half chewed food fell out of his mouth, and he openly gaped at Serana.

  “King Olaf. As in Olaf One-Eye? He was High-King?”

  “I know my accent is hard to understand, but you all seem to know of him.” Serana’s expression was quizzical and confused, looking over their expressions of astonishment. “How long ago was his reign?”

  “Serana,” Kaius's sword had somehow turned from an eating implement, into a deadly weapon once again, his grip tightening as he stared at her. “In what year were you born?”

  “Five-forty-nine. Why? What’s the problem?”

  She saw the way that all three were watching, and the circular motions Sofia was making with her hand with an expression of ‘and, go on’ on her face.

  “Five-forty-nine of…?”

  “The year five hundred and forty-nine since Ysgramor’s conquests. Again, what is the problem?”

  Silence fell between them again and Sofia’s face scrunched in concentration as she tried to remember the dates and history and the answer that entered her mind made her want a bottle of mead. Or a dozen.

  “Serana… That was in the Merethic Era.”

  “Am I supposed to understand the reference?”

  In the months travelling with him, there had been very few times where Sofia could remember Kaius looking surprised, and only a few where he had been nervous. Against a dragon murdering dozens of people and destroying a fort around them had been one of those times. However, sitting in front of a fire and listening to a vampiric woman was not one that Sofia expected to see him equally nervous and uneasy.

  “Well, so much has been lost to time and history that most dates are uncertain to confirm with any real accuracy…”

  “Bara ber?tta!” A hint of fangs glinted in the night, as Serana snapped at him. “Just tell me!”

  “You were born about four and half thousand years ago, and if my memory of history is correct, you have been in that crypt for the past four thousand years.”

  If they had thought Serana had been shocked before, they had been mistaken. Her mouth fell open, fangs growing slightly, eyes widening, and nose flattening almost as though she was becoming a bat. For several moments it was almost as though her darker nature would fully rise to the surface, before she crushed it aside with her will, showing a moment of sadness before rising to her feet.

  “I… I need a moment.” She said softly, turning and walking a short distance away to sit at the base of a tree with the cloak hanging limply from her shoulders.

  “Fucking oblivion.” Kaius muttered to himself, staring at Serana as she wrapped herself up into her borrowed cloak.

  “She didn’t seem to take at well.” Sofia added, staring in Serana’s direction.

  “Would you? We just told her everything that she knew about this world… hells. We just told her that her entire world ceased to exist a long time ago. There’s a damn good chance that she’s completely alone.”

  “So?” The sound of the whetstone on the axe punctuated Lydia’s every word. “She’s a vampire. Being alone is the least she deserves.”

  “It’s still worth travelling to her home.” Kaius chose to ignore the obvious connotations his huskarl’s comments and actions with her axe had. “It’ll most likely be a ruin if it exists at all, but at least now we have a better idea of why the other vampires want her.”

  “Besides the Elder Scroll?” Sofia found her attention drawn to the burning embers of the fire, somehow feeling a little of the weight of eons that had come crashing down onto Serana.

  “Yeah. The older a vampire, the more powerful they are. You both remember just how strong Morvath was? He was maybe seven hundred years old. If Serana is telling us the truth, then she is quite easily the oldest vampire in existence and over four times as old. That is something to be extremely concerned about.”

  “Then why don’t we just kill her?”

  “Because she might not be the only one of her kind…” All three of them stared off into the shadows at the tiny, cloaked figure huddled against a tree a short distance away. “That is not a possibility we can afford to ignore.”

  For the following two weeks they travelled through north west Skyrim, staying for brief periods in towns and villages along the way and all the while taking care to keep Serana’s true nature hidden from those they encountered. In a lot of ways this was easier than they all expected, as while she was capable of travelling and withstanding the sun, Serana was by no means utterly immune to it. It weakened her, sapping her strength and endurance to the point where they were forced to seek transportation via wagon and oxcart to continue their journey to the extreme northern reaches of Skyrim. Here, where the Druadach mountains reached the Sea of Ghosts, they finally arrived, looking across a narrow strait to an island with a towering edifice built upon it.

  A castle, ancient, and worn by wind and waves, loomed against the clear blue expanse of the open waters as though it was treating the Sea of Ghosts as little more than a moat. It was tall, powerful and larger than any legion fort throughout Tamriel, with Kaius estimating it was two or three hundred metres wide, and still remarkably intact. There was no doubting its age, and despite the threat of what could be awaiting them within its shadowed, seemingly abandoned interior, Kaius chose to travel across at low tide, with only Serana by his side.

  Neither Lydia or Sofia minded being left behind. Sofia didn’t like the idea of crossing the thin strip of ocean-smoothed stones that was revealed when the waters receded in the morning, and Lydia was still not on speaking terms with Kaius and almost seemed to be going out of her way to ignore him. A campsite was arranged, a fire lit in a shallow depression in the rolling, rocky coastline to protect themselves from the frigid wind blowing from the north, but neither of them had a chance to get settled before Kaius returned.

  The sun was far above their heads and in the clear, blue sky there wasn’t a single cloud to be seen as Kaius made his way carefully over the strip of land now being swallowed up by the sea. The tides were returning and soon there wouldn’t be any means to cross at all, but it wasn’t the encroaching water that seemed to make him move with distinct haste.

  “That was quick. What happened to Serana?” For a moment it seemed as though Kaius hadn’t heard Sofia’s question, his expression grave and repeatedly looking back over his shoulder at the shadowed fortress. “Kaius? What in oblivion happened?”

  “I met Serana’s father.”

  “Guess your worries about there being another vampire ancient around was accurate. Let’s go kick his arse.”

  The way that he shook his head was foreboding, as was the true expression of concern on his face.

  “So… that wasn’t the bad news I’m guessing?”

  Standing a slight distance away, Lydia watched them both, but even through her disdain and frustrations, she too could feel the way that Kaius was on edge. It was also the first time that either of them had seen him truly concerned.

  “That doesn’t even come close to the bad news.” He began, turning and staring off at the castle feeling the sea breeze on his face and the taste of salt on the air as the tide continued rolling in. “Serana is his daughter. Not figuratively, but literally. They are the first.”

  “The first what?” Despite herself, Lydia couldn’t help but ask the question as her curiosity got the better of her.

  “The first of their kind. They are Volkihar.”

  Both Sofia and Lydia couldn’t help but react to that name. The Volkihar were true legends, older than the Kingdom of Skyrim itself, and all three Cyrodiilic Empires. They were nightmares given form, tales told to children, and whispered warnings passed down through countless generations.

  “And you left Serana there? With the Elder Scroll?”

  “I didn’t have any choice in the matter. There were way too many of them, even for me. Let alone against the likes of a Child of Coldharbour.”

  “A child of what, now?”

  “A vampire pureblood. The first of their kind. A founder of a vampiric strain and dynasty, personally granted the curse by Molag Bal Himself.” Tearing his gaze from the ancient castle, Kaius looked between Sofia and Lydia, and they could see the way he was deeply troubled from whatever had occurred in the castle. “We, and Skyrim… are in really deep shit.”

  Blood of Dragons Volume 9 - Truth in the Shadows