The Firstborn's Return

The Concept of Moon didn't mean anything to Michael, only that it had some control over Werewolves and the Khajiit, though, the Concept of 'Khajiit' likely took priority in this instance.

From various games and other fiction Michael was aware that Moon Light could be used to heal or harm, whether or not that was realistic in reality was another thing entirely. He himself couldn't find any use for it during the night, nor could he affect any of the actual moons, aside from being able to tug on the curse afflicting them and the Khajiit birth cycles.

The Concept of Khajiit was far easier to understand in his mind, it was a rather limited Concept which actually helped him out. Khajiits were birthed from Azura after she began experimenting on their less civilized ancestors, the evidence for it was very visible to him.

They basically fell under these categories, [Predator], [Animal], [Intelligent], [Group], and finally, [Moon]. These and some lesser concepts made up the beings known as Khajiit. This explained their talent in sneaking and thievery, along with their reluctance to leave their communities,

What could Michael do with all of this? Well... He employed a plan called 'I want more Cat-Girls in my life', which did exactly as it sounded.

Khajiit would no longer be born as giant cat-people with horns (The horns courtesy of Clavicus), now they would be born as cute human-like cat people with ears, tails, claws, and fangs. Did he tell anyone of this? No. He intended to allow Tamriel to find out for themselves.

Hopefully it wouldn't result in the race getting genocided or all becoming slaves for their unique beauty... If that started happening he'd put a stop to it, after all, they were his people now. He wasn't keen on everyone figuring out his new status as a Daedric Lord either, only trouble could come from that...

...

He just jinxed himself, didn't he...?

"A letter for you Michael!" Megumin happy skips into his room just as he thinks this, the girl slamming it down on his desk with a grin.

...

"Well? Open it! I wanna see what it is!"

"Why? You've never cared about my mail before..."

"Because you've only just come back as a Daedric Lord! Your first letter has to have something cool in it!"

...

"You know, she's got a point..." Derflinger remarks from the corner of the room, the sword having spent most of its time with Darth now that it was basically useless to Michael... As powerful as it is, he sincerely doubted its ability to cut gods. His fight with Mehrunes Dagon was evidence enough...

Michael shakes his head and lets out a sigh, lifting the letter, "You reckon if I leave it closed the contents will stay away?"

"No chance!" the sword cackles.

He opens it and immediately feels the need to jump off the top of the Spire...

Apparently, every statue, depiction, description, and everything else you can guess of Clavicus Vile had transformed to now reflect himself. Statues were now taller, had cut horns with familiar-looking rings around them, lacked Barbas, and looked exactly like Michael.

Books about Clavicus described him perfectly, and pictures of Clavicus now simply showed versions with him replacing the former Daedric Lord...

Everyone who's someone, and many who weren't, now knew of his new status... Or at least, the clues for it were very, very obvious... Michael telekinetically pulls a book from his bookshelf and looks at the title... What was once 'Myths and Legends of Clavicus Vile', had become 'Myths and Legends of Mikhail Tahlin Vile'...

"Fuck."

"So, not cool or...?" Megumin questions.

"Ima say it's the 'definitely not cool section'." he grumbles, handing her letter to her.

"What do you mean 'Not cool!?' this is super cool! Everyone knows how strong you are now!" she exclaims after reading.

He sighs, "Never change, Megumin. Never change."

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Elsewhere, Miraak was readying the world for his return. His new servant possessed far greater powers than he initially thought, the power of 'Void', whatever that was. He was somewhat cautious due to its links with Sithis, but his eagerness and lust for freedom soon rid him of this.

The Skaal had all been annihilated, their druidic control over the land subverted to his own cause. The minds of everyone within Soltheim were now his to command, with that control he'd had them begin fortifications in preparation for war, and construction of military resources, weapons, armour, etc.

The ritual to bring him to Tamriel isn't as easy as one might expect, Hermaeus Mora had put in place many protections to prevent it... Fortunately, he had everything he needed.

Louise Valliere gathered almost everyone in Solstheim to the Shrine of Miraak, she and Joseph de Gallia stood close to the pillar in the center, beginning the chants Miraak had developed. His dragons were doing the same in their own language, the combined verses causing light to dim and a faint 'heartbeat' sound to ring out in a rhythm.

*ThumpThump*

*ThumpThump*

After a couple minutes of this, a black rift opens up from within the pillar, cracking it open and revealing a lone figure. Standing dressed in fine armoured robes and wearing a Dragon Priest Mask.

Miraak takes a deep breath, luxuriating in the air of Tamriel, a realm he hadn't seen in thousands of years...

Unfortunately for him, waiting wasn't an option...

"MIIIIIRRRAAAAAAAAAKKKK!!!!" Hermaeus Mora's voice screeches from behind him, the entrance to Tamriel waking the previously comatose Daedric Prince from his slumber.

Miraak, as any sane person would done, quickly rushes out, "CLOSE THE DAMNED THING! CLOSE IT! CLOSE IT NOW!" he frantically shouts, not wanting to allow his escape to be compromised by his former jailor.

"MIIIRAAAAAAAAAA-" Hermaeus Mora's bulbous, black form rushes the rift, almost reaching it but getting stopped as Louise and Joseph slam it closed.

"Hah... Hah... Hah... Hahahahahaha! I AM FREE! FINALLY FREE!" the First Dragonborn begins wildly laughing, his plans finally coming to fruition.