iii

[conjuredskies]

Huddled among his notes, Felix buried his face in his arms and shuddered. He didn’t feel the chill in the air, nor mind the lingering scent of decay. Not now. The buried halls felt reassuringly safe now. Lonely, but-

He could have killed Jim. It was the thought that kept resurfacing in his panicked mind, drowning out everything else.

What in the gods’ names was wrong with him? He hadn’t wanted - hadn’t even thought - to do his lover any harm. And yet there, in a half-woken daze, he’d reached out and- And thank Stendarr Jim was a man with sharp survival reflexes. Felix couldn’t bring himself to think beyond that.

His thoughts were spinning. He was tired, he knew that. He needed quiet, needed to think it though, think how in the name of Talos he was going to make it up to…

What the fuck was wrong with him?

He didn’t know. But he could guess. He lifted his tear-dampened face to stare at the piles of notes around him. If you wanted to be a good - and long-lived - conjurer, you had to have some awareness of when your hold on yourself was starting to slip. He hadn’t thought he’d been in contact with anything that could affect him so, and yet-

I almost killed him. He closed his eyes.

Something was getting to him. He couldn’t even summon a spell to heal the captain without it warping and… twisting like a viper in his hands. That had frightened him too, and he didn’t understand why that should happen but- it didn’t matter, did it? For now he couldn’t bear the risk of being around anyone he knew, not until he had himself in order. Certainly couldn’t have them barging in on him.

And could he even afford to stop his research? The whole point was to have the power to protect them, but if he couldn’t do that without becoming a danger himself… He bent his head and scrubbed fingers through his hair in frustration. He needed to know all this. He needed to learn without picking up more than his soul could carry lightly. A way to see the truth without it destroying him..

Ah. Aha. Of course.

Felix laughed out loud when he thought of it. The answer to everything - one of them, at least - had been under his nose the whole time. If he wanted to walk into Apocrypha and not lose his mind to the temptations of forbidden truth, he had the very weapon he needed all along.

It was only a short PINpoint hop away. He took the hood from its hiding place and shook it out. It was soft as silk, smooth as water, and unlike either it made no sound.

A shadow snipped from the Cowl of Nocturnal, blessed by the Empress of Murk, meant to shield the mind from excessive insights. It was perfect. What better to keep his mind wrapped up in his own mission? It only saw to his own protection, of course; there was still the question of what to do with the unpredictable Naugus…

When he returned to his new laboratory it occurred to him that he should test the shadow cowl, to make certain of its effects- and preferably with no-one else around. When he slipped it over his head, he felt-

Quiet. So quiet. So peaceful. Why had he been worried? Everything was truly fine. Everything he needed was practically in his hand. Sinking into profound relief, he dozed.



He found himself among towering shelves that creaked and fluttered with black tomes, twisting around him when he tried to find his way.

But you’re a mage, something taunted. Can’t you teleport away?

I can’t- I don’t know how…

You could if you wanted. You could make this place fear you, if you wanted.

He roamed endless identical decks of a bewildering ship, every steel hallway empty as the lights died above him. He called out - for Jim, for Stratos, for his uncle, even for Naugus. None of them answered.

Only the useful are kept. You’re alone, Felix.

A conjurer is never alone. I’m never alone. He summoned his familiar and moments later it trotted off around a corner, never to return. Felix tried to call after it, but his voice petered out weakly. I don’t work alone. I can’t. I can’t be!

He walked the streets of the Imperial City, and they burned around him no matter how many elves he struck down.

They can’t help you, Felix. They don’t understand what you must do. You have to do it yourself. Do you want them to die? Do you want him to die?

Each elvish wizard that stepped from the shadows was more powerful, all of them older and faster than he, and too soon his strength was exhausted. But he knew what he needed. It waited for him at either side, patient as a loving tutor.

Power is a friend they can’t take from you, it said in his own unfamiliar voice.

Felix reached down and his fingers brushed over twin hilts. Before him, a dozen Thalmor with murder in their eyes suddenly froze, then quailed backwards. He smiled at them, bright with sudden mirth.

Do you want to go to war, Felix? The blades sang in either hand as he lifted them. You want to know what a conjurer you could truly be?

And he said, I do.