When he reached the ground and stood within it, he realized it was an underground structure. On the surface, nearly a hundred people were working diligently, carving stone and laying walls. They wore different clothes and belonged to different races, but they all spoke the same words in Old Nord: "We labor here." "He is returning." And so on.
Amidst the Nord-style simplicity, the temple entrance was filled with an incongruously complex atmosphere. Tall, latticed walls, like a dense tree canopy, revealed the dark blue, fractured sky. They enclosed the spiraling downward path like a flower bud. In the center of this great hall stood a sharp, primitive stone pillar, its surface coated with a layer of moss-like green, murky light.
Jonas vaguely heard a sound coming from the stone pillar, so he reached out and lightly touched that thick, oily glow.
The next moment, he lost consciousness... —When the world hears it—
—The world shall end—
Strange, deep words echoed in his ears. A man was speaking, and every sentence held a blasphemous subtext.
—You have already forgotten—
—You shall be enlightened here—
—Now, through my eyes, see—
Fractured space-time once again unfolded before Jonas's eyes.
It is said the world is a wheel, and space-time is its surface. However, no one can truly see its specific shape; it is merely a projection of a higher level onto a lower one. Just as the vertical shadow of both a sphere and a cylinder is a circle, what mortals see is only the information they can accept, and they must be cautious not to be killed by the truth.
Through Miraak's eyes, Jonas saw instead a rotting worm—a muddled, dark purple mollusk-like creature of great length. It had no head or tail, moving through the chaotic holes of the dark sea of the Void Realm. It revealed sixteen segments of its body, covered in countless cilia, lush and shadowy, with eight strange eyes seemingly flickering.
The Space-Time Worm: its eternal motion represents time, its lack of head or tail represents space, and its sixteen exposed segments represent the realms of the Daedric Princes, stabilizing the celestial and terrestrial order and defining the space-time framework. The eight strange eyes are the pearls that measure the world, defining the positions within the manifest Mundus, neither increasing nor decreasing.
At this moment, the Foolish Worm was dead, yet its motion had not ceased in the slightest. Its body was covered in festering scars, and boundless tiny insects were breeding within them.
With just one look, Jonas felt his sanity crumbling, yet he could not close his eyes. He could only look toward the center of the chaotic dark sea where the worm resided. There was a cluster of eerie vesicles, where countless Seekers held ancient, decaying scrolls, murmuring blasphemous words about the old days being dead and the new king returning.
That cluster of vesicles possessed an endless attraction. Jonas felt thin dragonfly legs growing inside his lungs, scratching at air bubbles—it was both painful and itchy, filled with the fear of suffocation, yet he could not help but gaze at that cluster.
In the deepest depths, in a dark chamber where no light could be spoken of, the god upon the throne revealed all of his beauty and traces. These lines and colors were being broadcasted by their own nature, rather than being mere reflections of light.
Jonas knew that person.
He, Miraak.
He, Hermaeus Mora!
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