Night Hen Mother

It's been a couple weeks since Michael and Megumin had been expelled from the College, yet nothing much had changed at the outset...

Michael continued living in Winterhold, studying magic, learning from his Spirits, and now working with the hired workers to create his new home. One might call this relaxing, or 'normal', were it not the fact that he was forced to work day and night at the Aetherium Forge, along with having Euroland Greymane help with the ebony 'circuits' as he'd begun to call them.

He'd created thousands of Symbols of Akatosh that he'd placed in the center of the granite stone bricks that'd be used to create the property. The process was both magically and physically exhausting, as he had to magically separate each brick so that he could deposit the Aetherium Symbols which were bound together with ebony 'circuitry', which was basically just a bunch of thin ebony strands that'd act as wires.

Each brick would need to be linked so that magicka could be carried through them and into the Symbols by the Eye of Magnus. The overall shape of the structure didn't matter, so long as the very top could funnel the magicka into the veil separating Oblivion from Mundus.

Michael was actually forced to go around Skyrim buying up whatever Ebony he could since he didn't have enough for the project. If anyone was aware of just how many Ebony artifacts, weapons, and armour he'd been melting down to gather the required material he'd probably have the whole of Tamriel ready to lynch him.

Luckily, despite how annoying it is to construct a massive spire made from stone, crystal, and metal. He didn't encounter any trouble from Jalr Korir who was more than satisfied with just the flow of workers entering Winterhold. Their very presence sent the town into an economic boom due to the fact that they too needed to feed themselves, along with purchasing accommodation that they could stay at while they worked.

Brynjolf had pulled out all the stops, so the workers that'd been sent were the best of the best. Most of them being paid by Skyrend, which itself had been increasingly more popular with the Civil War raging on...

Unfortunately, despite everything that was going well, some still attempted to stifle his efforts. A prime example is the Dark Brotherhood member's neck he was currently holding, the girl giving out sounds of choking as their feet flailed uselessly to find the ground.

"So, what's this about then? Who paid for my death?" he asks, despite the fact he was almost certain that the Thalmor were responsible...

"S-Silence... D-doesn't.. S-speak..." the girl rasps out before conjuring a Daedric dagger and attempting to stab it through his temple. Only for him to grab her arm with his free hand, gripping it tightly enough to break hers and force the knife to dissipate.

"That wasn't smart." Michael remarks, wondering what he was going to do with this one. Killing her would probably put the Brotherhood on a warpath against him. Sure, he could head to Falkreath and wipe them out, but was their destruction even worth the effort? He was sure they could be used... Somehow. "Why don't we start with your name?"

...

The girl doesn't move, instead opting to just glare at him, knowing that escape was all but lost to her. She'd misjudged her target and would pay for the mistake.

Michael hums in thought, "Let's get a look at your face first then." he says as he pulls the reluctant assassin's hood down, revealing her Altmer heritage along with her out of place black hair and amber eyes. "Didn't think the Brotherhood hired 'em this young." he remarks to himself as he looks upon the young elf's face.

Seeing the girl still not wanting to answer, he decides to employ his harsher methods. He draws an ebony dagger and begins prodding places around her body, not enough to draw blood, only to sting. "Maybe I should cut your fingers off to stop you wielding those daggers? Cut off a foot to stop you sneaking around? Or maybe, since you're so dedicated to keeping your mouth shut, cut your tongue out?" he asks, causing the girl to freeze at his last statement.

Apparently, she held her ability to speak in high regard...

*Thud!*

He throws her against the wall and places a foot on her chest, bending down to get easier access to her mouth, which he pries open by squeezing her jaw tight enough to almost dislocate it.

The girl squirms at this, but Michael continues, giving her a cruel grin as the ebony dagger approaches her mouth... Only to pause as something peculiar occurs...

The girl's eyes become speckled with black, which spreads like dye in water, causing both to go completely dark. Her lips then go a lifeless grey while her breathing slows to a crawl. Micahel had started to think she'd poisoned herself to avoid torture, until the girl... Or something else started speaking...

"Cease your actions, defiler, or await Sithis' wrath." the husky, almost whispering voice demands, prompting Michael to push down harder on the girl's chest with his foot, a curious expression on his face.

"Who's asking?"

"I am known as... The Night Mother."

Michael's eyes widen, "Oh? Then... This would be your Listener, right?" he asks, causing the spirit/wraith/ghost/whatever to pause.

"So you know of me? Then you would be wise to leave the girl alone."

Michael shrugs, "Hmm, I don't know. By the looks of it, your Listener came here directly after receiving your orders. I'd wager to bet that the Brotherhood members don't know her target... If I killed her here, wouldn't I be free of you?"

"Only until the next Listener is discovered. Then you will be hunted, caught, and delivered to Sithis. You will not know peace should you harm this girl." the Night Mother warns, promising disaster should he follow through with his plans...

"How about a deal then? he asks after a moment of thought.