Simon walked in front, with the two Vampires following behind him. They left the outer Graveyard and headed towards the portal. A long, drawn-out howl echoed from the sky.
It was Durnehviir, the ancient bronze Dragon, slowly descending onto a ruined tower. He stretched his neck, bringing his Dragon head level with the Troll, and their eyes met.
"Drem yol lok, Qahnaarin. (Greetings, Conqueror.)"
"Drem yol lok, Diiv. (Greetings, Dragon.)"
Out of mutual respect for their honor, the man and the Dragon greeted each other.
"You are the most powerful human I have seen in this place. I have heard of masters skilled in the Thu'um, but none have come here, nor have they shown me such a soul-shaking voice."
"You have been here too long. I can smell the deep scent of death from your immortal Dragon soul. You are trapped here."
"Indeed, Conqueror, your insight is truly keen. I once traded with the Lord of Truth for profound knowledge of necromancy. As part of the pact, I must await the death of a person named Valerica within the Soul Cairn."
"And she is an immortal Vampire."
"Precisely. Now I have a certain connection to this place. I cannot leave the Soul Cairn for too long, or my Dragon soul will gradually wither. I have a humble request, which I earnestly hope the proud Conqueror will grant."
"Speak it."
"I deeply miss the sky of Tamriel. How pleasant it would be to soar through it again. I will tell you my true name. You can summon me in the outside world as an aid. When you deem the time ripe, shout my name to the sky!"
Durnehviir spread his wings and took flight, boundless thunderclouds rumbled, and heaven and earth roared the supreme words:
Dur (Curse)!
Neh (Never)!
Viir (Dying)!
Simon closed his eyes, savoring the profound word of power. After a moment, he revealed a knowing smile.
"Let's go, we're going home."
The Daughter of Coldharbour's blood dripped into the offering basin, and a purple passage opened high above. The three of them walked step by step along the flagstone stairs, leaving the desolate Soul Cairn.
The eye of the sky shimmered with a cold light.
Valerica decided to live in seclusion at Volkihar Castle. She vowed never to actively attack humans again, to give Simon an explanation, while Serana followed Simon all the way to Winterhold.
The midnight stars and moon flickered behind a sky full of dark clouds. The familiar crisp air felt like nascent vitality, capable of invigorating a person after a sharp shiver. Stepping through the deep snow, listening to the crunching sound of snowflakes, Simon reached the long-closed shop door, pulled out a gleaming brass key, and gently unlocked it.
Serana lit a candlelight spell. Simon thanked her and used the faint light to start the fireplace.
A flame spell gently roasted a resinous pine log, filling the room with a comforting fragrance. Serana walked to the wall, pushed open a window, and her serene gaze watched the silent Winterhold in the wind and snow.
"Is this your hometown?" She didn't turn around.
"Half of it. I run a shop here." Simon stacked the pine logs to ensure they burned thoroughly.
"So, you brought me here just to open a shop? When are we going to explore the prophecy?"
"Don't rush. First, you need to understand that the mysteries of the prophecy are in three of the elder scrolls. You have one, your mother has one, and the remaining one is with me." Simon found the horn lanterns in the cupboard, added oil, lit them one by one, and placed them in various corners, filling the food shop with warm light.
"Oh, that's truly good news." Serana's tone became a little more cheerful.
"I know you Vampires don't like normal food, but I have fine wine here. Would you care for a drink?" Simon arranged the chairs, placed a horn lantern in the center of the square table, took out multicolored glass wine glasses and chilled vodka, and poured two glasses.
Serana looked at Simon with some surprise. This man was showing a rare gentleness. "You seem very happy?"
"If you had also escaped death, you'd be even happier than me."
"You're afraid of death too!" Serana took the glass and sniffed it gently. "Such a pure scent, and it has the aura of restoration magic. Strangely, I don't dislike this smell."
"A skilled healer can save the lives of the undead." Simon drained the vodka, the explosive burning sensation in his stomach making him unable to stop smiling.
By his reckoning, it was around four in the morning. The diligent children were already up exercising—Simon walked to the shop door and watched two thinly-clad teenagers jogging down the street.
"Didi, look at that person, doesn't he look like Master?" Jonas tugged at Dilo's sleeve.
"He certainly does! Hurry up!"
The teenagers rushed into the Troll's embrace, their cheers almost waking up all of Winterhold. Residents, whose sweet dreams had been disturbed, grumbled as they grabbed their hammers and stepped out, only to see bright light emanating from the shop on the corner.
"The Foodie is back!!!"
Winterhold truly awoke. Men, women, and children of all ages crawled out of their warm beds and poured into the streets, surrounding the long-absent Baron of Winterhold.
The Lord pushed through the crowd and embraced Simon. "You'll have to stay for a few more days this time, at least until we've all eaten and drunk our fill before you can leave!"
People shouted, "Yes, yes, we've missed your cooking so much!"
Serana shrank into the shadows, looking at the back of the white mountain, her thoughts drowned out by the cheers.
Suddenly, she felt a pang of sadness.
On the evening of the seventh consecutive day of the food shop's opening, Simon dismissed the lingering guests and closed up shop.
Serana emerged from the adjacent kitchen.
"Reading the elder scrolls requires certain conditions," Simon said, tidying the shelves. "The Moth Priests of Cyrodiil have mastered the technique, but it carries the risk of blindness. The Dwemer had a technique for indirect scrying, but it only worked for a single scroll—the information obtained that way was chaotic and too random. The prophecy requires reading all three scrolls at once. If we don't have any other conditions, then we'd have to seek the help of the Moth Priests in the Ancestor Glade scattered across Skyrim, but we have a better option."
"Let me see this so-called better option."
"You've already seen it."
"When? Wait, was it that boy?"
"Keen senses! Serana, you also vaguely sensed that powerful soul, didn't you?"
"Of course…" the Vampire Lady murmured. That Breton Boy named Jonas, his eyes seemed to reflect the world. Such beautiful eyes would certainly be strong enough to bear the power of the mysteries.
"Who exactly is he?"
"You will know, because the two of them will also participate in this expedition. Do you know why I'm lingering here?" Simon smiled mysteriously. "Come on, I'll show you something good."
In the dim room, an epiphyllum bloomed.
In the bright, pure land, Serana saw a nine-foot-tall black and red humanoid mech standing on the snow. Its design was sleek and restrained, like a crimson rosebud in the dark night. Ethereal blue undead spirits wove through the ebony gaps, like an endless tide.
"A Vampire battle armor custom-made for you. I call it Chanel. You'll love it."
-------------------------------
I've already uploaded 70 chapters of this story on Patreon!
If you enjoy it, come check out the latest chapters in advance.
Here's the link:
[patreon.com/Greyhounds]
Thank you so much for your support!!
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"