Bound by Secrets #42

Serana's gaze remained steady as she observed the two men. Erik, with his calm stance and faintly amused expression, barely registered on her sense of threat. Yet, there was something peculiar about him—a presence she couldn't quite identify. It was almost familiar, a sensation that tugged at memories of her mother.

The sensation was subtle, more of a lingering essence than a clear resemblance, but it stirred a sliver of wariness within her.

But her attention quickly shifted to Isran, whose reaction was far more intense. His expression cycled from shock to hesitation, then twisted into outright rage. His face contorted, eyes blazing with a fury that seemed to consume him, and Serana could almost feel the weight of his hatred—a raw, seething thing that turned the air around him icy.

Without warning, he grasped the handle of his warhammer, muscles coiling as he raised it high, his intent unmistakable.

Her instincts roared at her to defend herself, but her body resisted, feeling sluggish as though weighed down by the ages of her sleep. Her limbs were numb, and her magicka, usually a familiar, thrumming source of power, felt distant and unresponsive, its slumber as deep as her own had been. She barely managed to draw a breath, her fingers twitching uselessly as her mind screamed for action.

Erik watched the scene with a sigh, his brows knitting together in faint exasperation. Isran's reaction wasn't unexpected. In fact, Erik had seen the storm brewing in his companion's eyes from the moment they had uncovered her coffin. He knew that Isran's loyalty to the cause of ridding the world of vampires ran as deep as his veins.

The thought of not only freeing Serana but escorting her to Castle Volkihar must have been insufferable for him, and the sight of her—the very embodiment of everything he despised—had pushed him past the edge of reason.

'I can't say that I didn't see this coming... still, it makes things easier for me...'

Acting swiftly, Erik raised an arm, summoning an ancient, weathered staff with gnarled wood and an intricately carved emerald set into its head. A hint of magicka pulsed from Erik's fingers into the staff, its green light flaring briefly. A jolt of emerald-colored electricity shot from the staff's gemstone, arcing through the air in a vivid bolt. It struck Isran square in the back.

With a stunned grunt, Isran's body jerked and then locked up, his arms falling limp as his warhammer slipped from his fingers and clattered to the stone floor. He sank to his knees, his face frozen in a grimace of rage and surprise. His mouth moved as he struggled against the paralysis, but his voice was no more than a strangled whisper.

"What… do you…?" he managed, his words clipped and strained as the spell took full effect, rendering him immobile.

Erik's fingers snapped, and in a swirl of dark energy, two towering figures materialized beside him. Surtr, a massive, fiery skeleton clad in charred armor, loomed on Isran's left, while Helrath, the death knight with hollow, gleaming eyes and a faint aura of cold decay, stood on his right.

Their hands fell on Isran's shoulders with a steely grip, pinning him firmly in place. Isran's eyes widened as the two beings restrained him, each one exuding an eerie, silent authority that left no room for resistance.

Erik folded his arms, his voice cold yet deceptively polite. "Allow me to apologize on his behalf," he said with a dismissive wave. "He's… passionate about his work. Too passionate, some might say."

His gaze flickered with faint amusement, but his tone sharpened as he turned his attention to Isran. "Though, I didn't expect him to exhibit such uncouth behavior... in front of a lady no less." Then, with an almost playful malice, he added, "Still, his blood would be as good as any. I don't know about you, but I always wake up famished after a long rest."

At this, Isran's eyes shot open wide in horror. Helpless against the paralysis spell, he could only watch as Surtr's skeletal hand gripped his head, tilting it to expose his neck. His breaths came shallowly, panic twisting his features as he strained in vain against the spell. He looked like a wild animal caught in a trap, his normally steady composure unraveling in the face of impending death.

Serana's gaze flickered to Isran's exposed neck, her expression unreadable as her crimson eyes took in the tempting sight of blood so close, so vulnerable.

But after a moment's consideration, she shook her head and took a step back. "The blood I received from you earlier is enough to keep me going for a few days." Her voice was calm, though there was a glimmer of temptation that hadn't entirely faded.

Erik's eyebrow arched at her response, and his lips curved into an amused smile. He knew, of course, that the blood she'd drawn from his hand earlier was only meant to break her seal. It shouldn't have been nearly enough sustenance for a vampire who had been slumbering for thousands of years. Was she testing him, he wondered, waiting to see how he would respond?

"Ah, well," Erik mused, his grin widening. "I was offering only out of courtesy." He shrugged, casting a final, dismissive glance at Isran. "It seems his blood will go to waste after all."

With a slow, deliberate motion, Erik raised his hand. The wooden staff faded from his grip, replaced by the gleaming Wyrmspire swordstaff, its blade gleaming ominously in the dim crypt light. He held Serana's gaze, his smile never faltering as he unsheathed the blade, letting it catch the flickering torchlight.

Without breaking eye contact with her, he drew the blade across Isran's neck in one smooth, unhurried motion. A dark line appeared, and blood began to pour forth in a thick, slow stream. Surtr and Helrath released their hold on him, and Isran crumpled to the ground, the life draining from him in swift, crimson pulses.

His eyes, wide with shock and fury, fixed on Erik in a final, silent scream. Yet the paralysis held, trapping him in the stillness of death.

Erik gave a casual flick of his blade, sending droplets of blood scattering onto the cold stone floor. He turned back to Serana, his expression unfazed, even as the life he'd just taken bled out at his feet.

"Now then," he said with an untroubled smile, "I believe you had some questions?"

Serana took a measured breath, her gaze wavering as she looked at the blood pooling on the floor. She then turned to Erik. The easy cruelty he had shown—a dispassionate act executed with almost playful calm—spoke volumes about the kind of man he was. Dangerous, certainly, but perhaps also useful.

She folded her arms across her chest, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly as she fixed Erik with a measured gaze. "Then I'll ask again. Who are you? And who sent you here?" Her tone was cool but laced with curiosity, like she was trying to unravel a puzzle just beyond her understanding.

Erik's smile widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "My name is Erik Deathsong," he replied smoothly, his voice laced with a dark charm. "I am many things—a mage, a wanderer, a man driven by curiosity—but, for the purposes of this conversation, let's say I'm a necromancer."

He gestured toward Surtr and Helrath, who loomed silently at his side, their towering forms casting long shadows against the dim stone walls. "As you can see, I'm rather skilled in my craft."

Serana's eyes flickered between the two undead servants, her expression unreadable. "That explains the... familiarity I sensed," she said, studying Erik with a new intensity. "You're not just any necromancer, are you? There's something… distinct about your aura. Something that reminds me of my mother."

Erik chuckled, intrigued by the unexpected comparison. "I don't know who your mother is," he replied, amusement dancing in his eyes, "but I'll take that as a compliment. She must be quite the formidable lady."

Serana's face softened just a fraction, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "You could say that." She tilted her head slightly. "But that still doesn't explain why you're here. If no one sent you, then you came of your own accord?"

Erik inclined his head, his expression growing more guarded, yet still playful. "Precisely. I find ruins of ancient power to be… irresistible. And when I heard whispers of a sealed tomb containing one of the most ancient vampires in Tamriel... just thinking about the stories you could tell is enough for me to make the effort."

Serana nodded slowly, as if weighing his words, though her guarded expression didn't waver. "I can't tell if you're lying," she murmured, almost to herself. "But if your intentions were harmful, I doubt you would have gone through the trouble to awaken me then slaughter this man right before my eyes...."

She studied him for another beat, her gaze piercing. "Then, what is it you want from me? And… who is your unfortunate friend?" She gestured towards Isran, his lifeless body still sprawled on the floor where Erik had left him.

Erik raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk pulling at his lips. "I've indulged a few of your questions, so perhaps it's only fair if you answer some of mine first." His tone was light, but his gaze was sharp, unyielding.

Serana's eyes widened briefly, clearly unused to being on the receiving end of such a bold demand. But she quickly composed herself, folding her arms once more and nodding in reluctant agreement. "Very well," she replied. "Ask, but I make no promises on how much I'll share."

Erik's smile grew, satisfaction glimmering in his gaze. "Let's start with something simple, then." His tone was deceptively casual, though there was a palpable intensity beneath the surface. "Who are you, and why were you sealed away here?"

Serana hesitated, her expression tightening slightly. "My name is Serana," she said finally, each word measured. "I'm… as you can see, a vampire. And as for the reason I was sealed here…" Her gaze darkened, shadows passing over her face as if memories were stirring in her mind, and she trailed off, almost lost in thought.

"Let's just say it's complicated," she finished quietly, her voice tinged with a weary sadness. "Explaining it fully would take time. And trust." She unfolded her arms, gesturing toward the passageway. "But if you're really that curious, you'll need to take me back to my family's home. Perhaps then you'll get your answers."

Erik let out a soft chuckle, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. "I did say I'm a man driven by curiosity, among other things," he murmured, his gaze assessing. "But curiosity alone isn't quite enough to lead me to the doorstep of an ancient vampire clan."

Serana's expression softened, but only slightly, as she eyed Erik with a hint of calculation. "Of course, you'll be well rewarded for your efforts," she replied, her voice light, but a shadow of hesitation crossed her face. "My father must have been searching for me... endlessly, I imagine."

 She frowned, then arched an eyebrow. "But what makes you so certain I belong to a clan of ancient vampires? Perhaps it's just me and my father."

Erik stifled a laugh, his amusement evident as he cast her a sidelong look. "Please, don't insult my intelligence," he replied, his tone sharp yet laced with dry humor. "Just look around. The resources it would take to create such an elaborate seal, buried this deeply, in such a hidden location—it all points to one thing."

He let his gaze wander over the stone walls, glancing at the eerie, silent gargoyles looming from every corner, their stone faces twisted in feral snarls. "And it's not just the architecture, either. Only vampires have such a love for gargoyles," he said with a dismissive wave. "Personally, I've never seen the appeal."

Serana's mouth tightened, and her voice took on a defensive edge. "And who's to say it was vampires who sealed me here?"

Erik chuckled, shaking his head. "Let's be honest—this place has the stench of vampire handiwork." He gestured at the stone guardians around them. "These grotesque statues, the hidden passages—it's all practically screaming 'vampire crypt.' Considering how ancient it all is, I'd even wager you were sealed here sometime around the end of the Merethic Era, or at the very start of the First Era."

He looked at her with a raised brow, his tone challenging. "That says quite a lot about your family. They must have been influential to wield such power when Ayleids and dragons still roamed Tamriel."

A frustrated sigh escaped her, and she muttered under her breath, "How long has it even been since I was sealed anyway?" Her voice held a trace of something vulnerable, quickly concealed.

Erik shrugged nonchalantly. "Hard to say the exact number, but given the condition of this crypt and the historical style... five thousand years at least."

Serana's face darkened at the estimation, and she cast her gaze downward, though she quickly masked any flicker of emotion. "Let's just forget about that for now," she said, brushing the topic aside with a carefully composed expression. "You still haven't told me about your friend here." She gestured at Isran, a hint of distaste in her voice as she glanced at his lifeless form.

Erik shrugged, his mouth quirking in a wily grin. "I'd love to tell you, truly," he said with feigned regret, "but I believe I've answered two more of your questions than you've answered of mine." He leaned in just slightly, his tone turning sly. "And it's only fair, don't you think, that you should indulge my curiosity a bit more?"

Serana's eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a tight line as she studied him. Finally, she sighed, unfolding her arms and meeting his gaze with reluctant agreement. "So stingy... fine," she replied. "Ask what you will. But be careful what you wish to know."

Erik's gaze lingered on the object strapped to her back, its intricate wrappings and weight unmistakable. "That's an Elder Scroll," he remarked, his tone casual yet probing. "Does it have anything to do with the reason you were sealed here?"

Serana's expression flickered, a mix of wariness and reluctance, but she gave a slight nod.

Before she could say more, Erik leaned in, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "But… you can't get into the details, can you?" He sighed, as if disappointed, but a faint glint betrayed his growing interest. "Still, that tells me more than enough to know something fishy is going on. An Elder Scroll, an ancient vampire… now I'm really intrigued..."

He hummed thoughtfully, making sure to make himself look conflicted. "But as I said, curisoity is not enough for me to quite litteral put my neck on the line." His tone shifted, lightening with a playful edge. "So, about that reward you mentioned—what might I expect?"

Serana folded her arms, frowning thoughtfully as she considered his words. "My father… he'll want to reward you as generously as he can, believe me," she replied slowly, each word measured. "And there's nothing he values more than blood."

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, her expression turning almost calculating. "You don't seem nearly as averse to my kind as your friend here. Considering the company you keep," she nodded toward Surtr and Helrath, "I doubt you'd have trouble fitting into the clan."

Erik barely resisted the urge to grin. This was exactly the direction he'd hoped the conversation would take. Still, he put on a thoughtful expression, rubbing his chin as if in hesitation. "A vampire, huh? Not the worst offer," he mused aloud.

"More power… a few centuries or more to do as I please… could be interesting." He shrugged, adding, "Then again… I'm not sure it's worth the trouble. Most vampires I've run across were little more than feral beasts lurking in shadows."

At that, Serana's brow furrowed, a look of faint disdain crossing her face. "You can't compare my clan to those degenerates," she said sharply. "Feral vampires are shadows of what they could be, their blood diluted through generations. To be a Volkihar is not to be some lowly creature. We're vampire lords."

Her words were proud but tempered with a sense of gravitas. "We possess abilities and power beyond any lesser bloodline."

Erik raised an eyebrow, as if caught off-guard. "Vampire lords, you say? So, you're a first-generation vampire then?" His expression held a mix of respect and intrigue, his tone carrying a hint of awe.

Serana hesitated, her expression turning conflicted as she weighed her answer. Finally, she nodded. "Yes," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I am what you'd call a Daughter of Coldharbour."

Erik's eyes sparkled with interest. The name wasn't one he'd heard lightly in his studies of the arcane and forbidden. "Well, Serana," he said, voice laced with a hint of admiration, "you just made this offer a whole lot more intriguing, but..."