They bid the legionnaires goodbye the next morning. The soldiers had been rather hospitable to them, despite not gaining anything in return for that hospitality. Brodith suspected it had to do with Serana, since he doubted any of them had seen a woman in quite awhile.

The duo began their trek across the plains, circling around the mountain they had first emerged from. Brodith was simply glad that the insatiable thirst had vanished, replaced with the familiar desire for water. They made good time, reaching the road that would lead them to their destination in just under an hour.

Overall, the journey was even more boring than his trip from Fort Dawnguard to the crypt. The worst they encountered were three idiotic bandits pretending to be legionnaires. They easily dispatched them, a crossbow bolt landing in ones chest the moment he asked for a toll. Serana speared the other two with ice spikes. He was somewhat disappointed when he discovered they had little of value on them. They either had a base somewhere nearby where they stored their loot or they had just started their operation.

After taking the dead bandits' gold, they continued on. The first day was completely uneventful except for the bandits, and Brodith prayed for that rare peace to continue. His travels seemed to attract all manners of foe, be it bandit or beast, and this was a lucky occurrence.

It wasn't until the second day that things grew more complicated. They had passed few travelers, and none had had anything able to cure him. The vampire disease weakened him immensely, and their pace neared to a crawl as the day drew on.

By the time night had fallen, they had found a relatively safe place for him to turn. It was a small, hidden cave just a few miles from Solitude that looked as though it had once belonged to smugglers. Small crates full of broken glass and degraded leather goods practically filled the room, leaving just a small area for him.

He felt a strong degree of anticipation and light terror as the exhaustion transformed into a dull, throbbing pain. It never grew very intense, but he could feel it growing slightly stronger each passing minute.

Serana had left, probably to find him something to feed on. Suddenly, it spiked. He hissed in pain as his body rapidly changed. His mouth was forced slightly open as fangs erupted from his canines, slashing through a small part of his bottom lip. Brodith could see that his skin had become paler as the last of the blood that had been slowly draining from it disappeared.

His senses had spiked. Not by very much, but he could see that his vision was just a bit clearer, his nose and ears slightly more sensitive. The shadows that had previously hidden things from his sight had seemingly vanished, leaving nothing but clear air.

Then the thirst hit. It was just as intense as it had been these last few nights, so he wasn't too worried about losing control and trying to kill anything. But he didn't want to spend an entire night like this, desperate for blood and with no one to distract him, especially now that he had the tools to quench the thirst.

For what seemed like an eternity he sat against a hard dirt wall, left with nothing but the yearning for hot blood dripping into his mouth. He was sure he would be a terrifying sight for any normal person that walked in, with his new hellishly orange eyes and sharp fangs bared in a snarl.

Finally, someone came in. He could feel that it was food; he could practically taste the blood that was pumping beneath the mortal's skin.

Before he lost control and attacked the newcomer, he felt something else walk in. Whoever it was felt old – ancient beyond anything he could imagine – and powerful, although the aspect that forced his calm was the age. As he expected, Serana walked in behind a brutish looking Nord. Although his new instincts urged him to pay attention to Serana – creator, his mind whispered, although he quashed that thought immediately, knowing it to be false – first, he disregarded them to look at his food.

The Nord was clearly enthralled, Brodith easily recognizing the signs from one of the books the Dawnguard had given him. Her brown eyes were glazed over, and she constantly tried to turn her head to Serana to give the vampire a look of adoration.

Brodith sneered at his meal, absentmindedly licking his fangs as he heard the blood pounding in the Nord's body. The elder vampire stepped back, and his instincts roared at him to feed upon the Nord. Overpowered with the desire for nourishment to slake the terrible thirst, he let his new instincts guide him as he leapt at his prey with terrible ferocity.

He didn't think for himself. The baser thoughts common to all vampires took control and directed him, leaving his vision covered in a red haze as he tore into the thrall's neck. His sharp fangs easily slid into the Nord's soft skin before he brutally tore them out. He ignored the scream from his food, instead latching onto the large wound and drinking deeply.

The bosmer couldn't tell how long he drank, but when his thirst was finally quenched the thrall was pale and lifeless. Now that his instincts had receded, he finally realized what he had done. He was no stranger to murder – the Imperial City Waterfront was just as poor and crime-ridden as ever when he was growing up – but he had never committed it himself. Brodith looked down at the dead woman in horror, and then at his own hands that were stained with her blood.

He stood up on shaking legs, still eying his hands with disgust. Brodith was disgusted with himself, coming up with a myriad of ways this could have gone better. They should have made their way straight to Morthal, no matter if it could have slowed their journey! That part of him that had been pleased at the prospect of the change – it meant more strength, more power; a better prospect of overcoming any of the foes Skyrim could throw at him – was quashed by the overwhelming disgust he held at himself. A bit of additional power wasn't worth doing this every few days.

His introspection was broken by a comforting hand on his shoulder. Brodith tensed, but slowly relaxed. Anything that could break him out of that distressing train of thought was welcome.

"You won't kill again." Serana said. "The first time is just…wild. It's not your fault that your instincts were too strong, this is something almost every vampire goes through. The first feeding is one of the only times you'll have no control."

Brodith nodded, but picked up on something she said.

"What do you mean 'something almost every vampire has to go through'?" He asked curiously. "Is there a way to avoid it?"

"There's a potion," she said, "but I don't know the formula. Even if I did, it's likely that some of the ingredients are gone."

"It's alright," Brodith sighed. "I just don't want to do this again. I'm many things, but until today I couldn't count murderer amongst them."

Serana didn't say anything for awhile, but moved to a crate in front of him and sat down. When she did speak, it was in a very curious tone.

"How does it feel?"

Brodith shrugged. "I can feel that I'm just a bit better in many areas. My eyes can see through shadows like they aren't even there, and I'm definitely a bit stronger and faster, but it's not as dramatic as I thought it would be."

"The Cyrodiilic vampires are the ones that get stronger – we just get an edge. But we have a few more abilities that they don't have, so we're mostly even." She said. "Of course, as you get older you'll notice that you get stronger. If you go awhile without feeding you'll notice the same change, although you'll look like a monster."

"That reminds me," the bosmer said as he looked up at Serana, "how have you survived these past few days without feeding? I've never seen you do it, and you'd been locked in that monolith for a few thousand years. By all right you should be more bloodthirsty than I was."

Serana looked uncomfortable by the question. "Let's just say that you'll learn more about it when we get to my home. If we hurry, we should be able to make it tomorrow."

The bosmer frowned but didn't push it. She had saved his life several times over by now, and he wasn't going to try to force her into answering something she clearly didn't want to. Instead, he decided to question the older vampire on any other powers he might have.

Who knew, perhaps he might discover that he would actually be able to use magic without it either backfiring or fizzling out.

Xx

It turned out that being a vampire didn't give him any more talent with magic, something he'd discovered when Serana tried to have him cast a flames spell outside the cave. In fact, it seemed to have even less of an effect than before.

Serana thought that he would be able to use the natural powers of the vampire perfectly, however. He proved her hypothesis that was proved when he managed to reanimate the body of his victim. Any of the leftover disgust he felt at himself for killing the woman was overwhelmed by his euphoria at actually performing an act of magic. The undead woman eventually collapsed into dust, thus preventing any need for a cleanup.

Since Brodith had fed and wouldn't be badly affected by the sun, they returned to their journey. The bosmer learned to appreciate his new resistance to the cold, even if he would have preferred to have been cured of his vampirism. Skyrim's freezing tundra no longer slowly weakened him, and his only difficulties in crossing it and the mountains was the piercing wind.

They soon ventured into areas Brodith had never been to before, and he had to rely on Serana for the most part and the map for when the landscape had changed too much. Overall, she seemed to recognize most of these areas and cut through the landscape with ease, finally bringing them out into a relatively flat area of Skyrim. Brodith could see the churning, cold waves of the Sea of Ghosts crashing onto the shore, and he felt no desire at all to sail through them.

There was also a fort that stood starkly against the dull landscape, and he as they drew nearer to it he thought that he could see the golden armor of the Thalmor on the guards patrolling its sides. His lip curled up in a sneer, exposing his fangs. Nearly everyone in the Empire despised the Aldmeri Dominion and their agents the Thalmor, and those that didn't were generally lining their pockets with the Thalmor's gold.

And considering how poor he had been before coming to Skyrim, they certainly hadn't been lining his pockets. So, like every good citizen, he had a strong desire to plunge a dagger into their throats. Unfortunately, he couldn't do that. Instead he warned Serana of their hostility and travelled a long way around the fort just to be safe.

Not long after they had avoided the Thalmor, they drew close to the shoreline. They were forced to stand back, lest the waves crash into them, but Serana didn't mind. She seemed to be searching for something, and eventually found it. As some of the sea's mist moved away, Brodith thought he could see the hazy outline of a castle.

"That's it, out there to the north. We used to keep a boat around here to get there and back." Serana remarked. Brodith looked at the sea dubiously, doubting that any boat would be capable of easily traversing the wild waters.

"You used a boat?" He asked incredulously. She distractedly nodded as she walked off to one of the thin outstretches of land. The older vampire looked around in one of the clumps of shrubs before waving him over.

Brodith looked down and saw that her discovery was an old, fragile looking boat. She was already stepping into the back of it, grabbing a pair of the oars that had been left inside of it. Having grown up around the countless ships that arrived and left the Waterfront daily, he wasn't impressed with it.

"I'm not getting in that." He said resolutely, eying both the sea and the boat with a critical eye. Brodith compared them and didn't find the chances of the small boat surviving the powerful waves satisfactory.

Serana rolled her eyes. "Get in. I promise it's safe."

The bosmer wasn't sure he trusted those words, but relented. Besides, even if the boat did capsize he was a vampire now. He would possibly be able to get out of the water since it wouldn't freeze him to death the moment he fell in.

So, still frowning, Brodith gingerly stepped into the rickety boat. He sat down in front of Serana and grabbed the other pair of oars. They weren't soft and rotting, at least, so they had to be in reasonably good condition. He still didn't like the boat, but at least their method of movement wouldn't snap in the middle of their journey.

When both of them were ready, they began to row. It was slow and difficult, but he found himself able to do it without being exhausted. The boat seemed to easily ride the waves, and very little water managed to get into the vessel.

When they finally reached a similarly rickety pier on the debris covered beach of the island, Brodith wasted no time in tying the boat to it and getting out. It hadn't been as terrible as he'd expected, but he wasn't thrilled about having to ride the boat back. He helped Serana out, and as she regained her balance he looked at his surroundings.

The air was cold and salty, although that was to be expected in this area. A massive stone watchtower was to his right, surrounded by protruding stone. The left side of his vision was obscured by even more rocks, although he could see that there was a slight opening that led to a hill. Dark birds flew in the grey sky, seemingly unaffected by the powerful winds. In front of him was a large bridge that led to a massive, ancient looking castle. It looked much larger than the hazy outline he had seen before suggested, and he had to admit that the castle was more impressive than any structure he'd seen since arriving in Skyrim.

He turned to Serana. "This is your home?"

"Yes," she said with a smile on her lips, "home sweet…castle."

"Why didn't you tell me it was so huge?" The bosmer asked as he continued to look at the castle with wide eyes.

"I didn't want you to think I was one of those…you know, the women who sit in their castles all day? I don't know." she admitted, "Coming from a place like this; well…it's not really me. I hope you can believe that."

"Serana," he said as he turned to her, "you've saved my life several times and I've seen you casually defeating creatures I would be easily beaten by. Trust me, I'm not about to think that of you."

She smiled. "Thanks, that means a lot."

Brodith nodded in return and began to make his way to the bridge. He noticed the inert gargoyles that lined the sides of the bridge and looked to Serana questioningly.

"Don't worry; they won't attack unless the castle is under threat. We're fine."

He nodded, although he still wasn't at ease with the monsters. They continued to walk across the bridge, although Serana pulled him aside when they neared the thick iron gate.

"Hey, so…before we go in there…"

"Are you all right?"

"I think so. And thanks for asking. I just wanted to thank you for getting me this far. But after we get in there, I'm going to go my own way for a while. I think." She muttered as an afterthought. "I just need to be alone for a while. There's a lot of feelings wrapped up in this old place, and I don't think you're quite ready for them. So let me take the lead in there."

"Alright," Brodith nodded, "lead the way."

Serana walked up to the gate. The watchman, who didn't seem to be the same sort of vampire as he and Serana, tried to warn them off.

"Go on, get out of here!" He growled. Then his eyes seemed to take in Serana and he apologized before saying, "After all these years Lady Serana's back. Now that's something."

She nodded at the watchman before passing him. As Brodith followed her, the watchman grabbed his arm. Brodith did nothing but wrenched his arm out of the man's grip before moving on. The watchman gave him a word of advice as he passed by.

"Lord Harkon's a great man. Best show him the proper respect." The vampire warned before moving forwards to get the door for them.

Brodith nodded his understanding of the advice before following Serana through the massive wooden doors, pausing for a moment as the overwhelming scent of blood greeted him. He licked his fangs as his instincts suddenly surged, but a look from Serana brought him back to reality.

There was a tall altmer standing in the entranceway. Beyond him Brodith could see a large stone hall that glowed with dim lights.

"How dare you trespass here!" Snarled the altmer vampire at them. As his eyes reached Serana, they widened in awe. "Wait…Serana? Is that truly you? I cannot believe my eyes!"

The altmer turned around before either of them could say something and walked into the hall.

"My lord!" He shouted in excitement, "Everyone! Serana has returned!"

"I guess I'm expected." Serana commented drily. He noticed that she had a nervous hand on the strange artifact she had on her back. When she caught his gaze she quickly removed it and motioned for him to follow her.

They entered the great hall, and the sight made Brodith's eyes widen. The scent of blood grew even stronger, and he could finally see why. Many vampires – all of them ancient, though none of them exuded the same aura of age as Serana – feasted on groaning thrall's at the long tables. Dismembered pieces of corpses were in plates and buckets, some of the bloody bones picked clean.

The cannibalism made his nose wrinkle in displeasure – he'd never subscribed to that element of his people's culture – but the sheer amount of the blood they were gorging upon made his instincts cry out in envy. As they stepped down the stairs and came to the middle of the hall, with him flanking Serana's right side, he became aware of the old vampires staring at them.

He noticed that all of their attention was focused upon Serana, and he silently wished he could draw his crossbow without being killed. The vampires' fierce, attentive gazes made the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge, despite the fact that only a few had even bothered to glance at him.

Then his eyes rested upon a figure that was leisurely getting out of its throne at a large, nearly empty table at the back of the room. The vampire moved with the grace of a saber cat as he stood up and walked in front of his table. One of the two death hounds he had seen walked by his right side, snarling at the unfamiliar scents.

The vampire widened his arms and spoke in a powerful voice with an aristocratic accent. Brodith didn't know what it was about the man, but he felt a strong desire to submit to him completely and follow any command he might give. He shook off the desire, but he could still feel it in the back of his head.

"My long-lost daughter returns at last." He said. His glowing eyes locked onto the artifact on Serana's back. "I trust you have my Elder Scroll?"

Brodith's eyes widened in surprise – even he knew about the Elder Scrolls, although he had never been exposed to their lore – as he heard what the strange artifact was. He paid closer attention to the conversation and ignored the interested glances the vampires sent each other.

"After all these years, that's the first thing you ask me?" Serana retorted. "Yes," she sighed, "I have the scroll."

The vampire drew nearer, and although he ignored Brodith, the bosmer could feel the power the man possessed. He had the same aura of age as Serana did, but he felt more powerful somehow.

"Of course I'm delighted to see you, my daughter." He drawled. "Must I really say the words aloud?"

Brodith raised an eyebrow at the man's flippant tone. Anyone could tell the words were hardly sincere, but something about them made the man feel wrong in a way he couldn't truly describe. It wasn't even about the lack of concern for his daughter, but just an overall feeling of danger the man possessed. His attention turned back to the powerful vampire as he continued.

"Ah, if only your traitor mother were here," he mused, "I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike."

From the tensing of Serana's shoulders, this wasn't a subject she seemed to enjoy. He could see a look of barely concealed delight in the man's eyes as he watched his daughter's unease. Then the man's glowing eyes glanced over to him, narrowing as the vampire took in his features.

"Now tell me, who is this stranger you have brought into our hall?" The man asked in a dangerous tone.

"This is my savior, the one who freed me." Serana's tone was just as dangerous, and it was something he had never expected to hear from the friendly vampire. Brodith thought she was overstating his importance – the other vampires were about to free her as well, and had done most of the work for him – but didn't protest it. The man's eyes met his, and every one of his instincts screamed at him to look away. It was difficult, but he managed to meet the man's gaze.

"For my daughter's safe return," he said, "you have my gratitude. Tell me, what is your name?"

"I'm Brodith. Who are you?" He asked; still staring into the other vampire's burning gaze. The older vampire smiled in light amusement before answering.

"I am Harkon," he announced regally, "lord of this court. By now, my daughter will have told you what we are."

"You're vampires."

"Not just vampires!" Harkon hissed, seemingly taking offense at the word. "We are amongst the oldest and most powerful vampires in all of Skyrim." The vampire began to pace in front of him, clenching his hands as he continued speaking. A note of bitterness entered his voice.

"For centuries we lived here, far from the cares of the world." The bitterness changed into hatred as he spoke. "All that ended when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most."

"What happens now?" Brodith asked, not sure if it was the right question. He managed to keep the hesitancy out of his voice, even under the interested gazes of most of the vampires in the court.

Harkon smiled, baring just a hint of his fangs. "You have done me a great service, and now you must be rewarded. There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter."

"I offer you my blood," he announced. From the intake of breath around him, Brodith judged that this was a great gift. "Take it, and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach, and you will never fear death again."

"I am already a vampire," Brodith said, "what more can you give me?"

Snorts of amusement were heard from around the hall. Harkon looked at him with a mixture of similar amusement and annoyance.

"You have contracted a disease, perhaps." He said condescendingly. "But you are no true vampire. My blood is the only true vampire blood."

Brodith unconsciously hissed in annoyance, amusing the powerful vampire even more.

"Perhaps you still need convincing?" Harkon said with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Behold the power!"

The lord's form hunched over and his form began to be covered with a mist of blood that coalesced around him. Even as Brodith unintentionally stepped backwards, he forced his arms outward and blood exploded from his body.

He was no longer Harkon, but a tall, pale creature with tattered, bony wings, and a bestial, snarling face. Brodith could feel the pure power and authority it possessed, and his eyes were glued to the beast that stood before him.

"This is the power that I offer!" Harkon declared into his mind. "Now, make your choice!"

Brodith looked at it with wide eyes, realizing just how limited and fragile he was compared to Harkon. His vampirism was weak, just a disease as the vampire lord had said. This form would make him powerful, indomitable. Even dragons would quake before the power this form held.

He tried to turn to Serana and see what her reaction was, but he found that he couldn't move his eyes from Harkon. Without any knowledge of her opinion, he acted. His silent desire for improvement and power would let him give no other answer.

"I will accept your gift and become a true vampire," he spoke, the words coming unbidden from his mouth. Harkon's monstrous form smiled, showing off fangs that could tear into a mammoth with little difficulty.

"Be still." He hissed into his mind. Brodith had no time to react before Harkon lunged at him, wrapping the bosmer in his suddenly larger wings and biting into his neck. The sheer agony of it forced the bosmer to black out, his body being caught by the tattered wings was the last sensation he felt.

Xx

The bosmer awoke in a dark, stone room. He could hear blood pounding from behind him, but a strange altar that dripped blood was more interesting. His vision suddenly became clear again, and he realized that he was somehow standing up.

Now he could see Harkon standing before him, next to the strange altar. Just seeing the vampire – creator, his mind whispered again, this time knowing it to be true – made him want to submit to him, although the desire was weaker than when he had been but a normal vampire.

"Awake at last," the vampire said lazily, "good. The power is growing within you, and now you must learn to wield it."

Brodith asked no questions, too enthralled with the thought of commanding the power that he could feel burning within his blood to worry about them.

"I'm ready to learn about my new powers."

"With my guidance you will become a deadly instrument, striking terror in the hearts of mortals wherever you tread. Now, listen to my words and do as I instruct."

Harkon walked towards him until he was a scant few feet away. "The true power of the ancient blood is found in the form of the Vampire Lord." He said. His voice took on a commanding tone. "Assume the mantle of the Vampire Lord, and we will continue."

Brodith instinctually knew what to do. He felt the burning in his blood and grasped it, forcing it to engulf his body with its strength. Immediately the blood began to burn even more intensely, and he found himself mimicking the transformation Harkon had shown him before he was turned. When he felt that it was nearly over, he forced his arms outward and overcame the barrier of blood that covered him.

When he did so the barrier exploded around him, painting his surroundings with blood. He idly noted that the stone seemed to absorb it, leaving no trace. Brodith then realized just how powerful he felt.

He was levitating several inches above the ground, and he could feel his blood burning with his new, terrible power. A strength he had never felt before coiled in his muscles, and he felt as though he were invincible. However his senses had been strengthened before, when he had changed into a lesser vampire, they were magnified now. Brodith's pointed, curved ears could hear everything, and his sight allowed him to see the smallest of details.

Overall, he felt as though he were invulnerable, a creature so beyond the lesser beings that they could not even imagine it. Harkon distracted him from his thoughts with a cough, and even now he felt the slightest urge to obey the other vampire.

"In this form," he continued as he paced in front of the altar, "you can drain the life from your foes with your right hand. With your left hand, you can wield the power of blood magic to raise the dead. You can also call upon the powers of night to turn into a swarm of bats and reappear some distance away. Should you run out of magicka, you can descend to the ground and fight as the beasts do."

"Do so now and we will continue." Harkon commanded. The words urged him to submit, and, wanting to test the full extent of this form's abilities, he did so. His body gracefully landed on the ground, and he felt himself hunch over into what he recognized as an ideal combat position.

Harkon smiled. "Good. You are weaker while on the ground, because you cannot access the blood magic. However, the night powers are still yours to command, and your claws are still formidable weapons. Over time, your powers will grow in strength and you will find new ways to use your gifts. There is much to learn, but if you master the powers of the Vampire Lord, few enemies will be able to stand against you."

That was certainly something Brodith could believe as he felt the pure power this form possessed. Even while untrained and lacking experience, he felt as though he could easily destroy an entire village in mere minutes. Suddenly, he could hear the blood pounding in the mortal he had previously dismissed.

He turned to the mortal – a human woman, he could see now – and bared his fangs in anticipation. As he stalked over to her, he could hear Harkon's amused voice from behind him.

"There is one last thing you must know. Slaying mortal men with your life drain grants you new night powers and blood magic." His amusement shifted into disgust, and a sneer graced his face. "I keep a stable of thralls in the castle should you need to feed like the baser vampires to stave off the sun."

"That is all I have to teach you. If you wish to be reminded of these lessons, you need only ask. I have a task that will test your new powers, but first, do you have any questions?"

Brodith paused as he grew nearer to the enthralled mortal, his mind flickering back to the strange altar.

"What is this place?" He asked, somehow transmitting his thoughts into the world.

"A shrine to Molag Bal, the mighty Daedra Prince who is father to all our kind." He said with reverence. "Our power is a blessing from him. It is he who first bestowed the gift of the ancient blood upon me."

The new Vampire Lord's cruel eyes widened as he realized the implications. It was no wonder he possessed such power, even had he not been slowly strengthened by his age he would still have the touch of a Prince upon him.

"You made a pact with Molag Bal?" He asked, silently wondering what horrific deed Harkon must have committed to gain the gift. Nothing else would satisfy the Prince of Rape.

"In an age long forgotten to history, I ruled as a mighty king." The vampire began, his burning eyes looking past Brodith with a faraway look in them. "My domain was vast, my riches undless and my power infinite. And yet, as my mortal life neared an end, I faced a seemingly invincible enemy – my own mortality. I pledge myself to Molag Bal, and in his name I sacrificed a thousand innocents."

Brodith's eyes narrowed in both disgust and reverence for Harkon's ruthlessness, his new, more powerful instincts impressed with the brutality. Harkon seemed to be too lost in his nostalgia to notice.

"In reward, he gave everlasting life to myself, my wife and my daughter. And so I have defeated mortality itself." He said grandiosely. His eyes lost their faraway look and met Brodith's.

"Are you ready for your task?"

The bosmer nodded.

"Good. Go and speak to Garen Marethi. Tell him it is time. He will understand." The vampire finished ominously. "Now, leave me."

Brodith nodded and began to levitate again. As he floated past the enthralled woman, he idly drained her life away from her. His blood burned intensely for a moment before settling again, leaving him with just a bit more power.

As he left, he instinctually reverted to his true form. He paused and looked back at Harkon. The elder vampire was kneeling before the altar, mumbling some words that he couldn't hear. Brodith shrugged and moved on, hoping to find Serana somewhere in this castle.

The dark atmosphere of the altar room vanished as he moved down the stairs, transforming into the dim lighting of the great hall. Several vampires bowed their heads to him as he passed, feeling his barely constrained power that was swimming in his blood.

He was pleased with their submission, although he felt the slight hint of revulsion below it. Something just felt wrong about these vampires submitting to him, although he could not figure out why. They should be prostrating before him, begging to serve the paragon of their kind in any way they could.

Brodith snarled at the next vampire he saw, barely realizing what he was doing. The lesser vampire scurried away, and he could smell that the man was likely to be one of the youngest at this castle. He lacked the ancient feeling most of the beings in this castle had.

After a while of wandering aimlessly around the castle, he found Serana in one of the numerous empty rooms. It was surprisingly well-maintained, and had a large bookshelf with tomes on magic and various other subjects. He wasn't particularly inclined to reading, finding much more value in practical experience, but he supposed that different people had different tastes.

Even before he'd stepped in, Serana had detected him. Her face brightened when she saw him and she put away the book she was reading to welcome him in.

"I'm glad you're alright." The vampire said with a relieved smile. "Not many beings can survive the transformation you've gone through."

"I feel better than ever," he shrugged before sitting down on a comfortable chair next to her. "But how long was I out?"

"Not long." She replied. "Just a few hours, which is faster than any of us expected. How are you feeling?"

He didn't reply for a moment, wondering just how to answer that simple question that invited complex answers. To be honest, he felt great. Still, there was a niggling feeling inside of him that made him feel as though something were wrong.

"I don't know." Brodith confessed. "I feel great, and I feel powerful. But something doesn't feel right? It's like there's something that's not me in here."

Serana looked thoughtful.

"I'll try and figure out what it is." She promised. "I don't remember anything like that after my transformation."

"Thanks. Do you know where I could find Garan Marethi?"

Realization dawned on Serana's face. "My father gave you a mission already, didn't he?"

The bosmer nodded. "I suppose that he's your father's lieutenant?"

"Has been since before I was put in the crypt. Some things never change. Anyways, he should be in the great hall. You should get going," she warned, "my father isn't a patient man."

Brodith's lips curved upwards. "I think I've noticed. Goodbye, I suppose I'll be back in a few days."

Serana waved him off and wished him luck, and also gave him his bag back. He heard her picking up her book as he left to find Garan. As she suggested, Brodith checked the great hall. The bosmer looked around for the dark elf and found him sitting in the corner on a bench, drawn into a thick book.

He moved over to the dark elf, ignoring a pair of squabbling vampires that were standing in the way. Brodith brushed past them, ignoring their hisses of annoyance, and cleared his throat when he grew near to Garan. The dark elf glared up at him, quickly closing the book.

"Yes," he asked impatiently, "what is it?"

"I have a message from Harkon." He retorted. Garan tensed and continued to glare at him.

"Lord Harkon." The irritated elf growled. "You would do well to remember your place. Now, what is our Lord's wish?"

"He simply said "It is time."

A grin split Garan's face. "Well, well. He wants the Chalice, then. You've heard of the Bloodstone Chalice?"

"I've never heard of it." The bosmer answered honestly. He silently wondered why he felt no annoyance at the dunmer for being so cross with him, but perhaps it was because he was actually important in the castle, unlike the others he had crossed.

"It is a rather well-kept secret." Garan admitted. "The Chalice has been in Lord Harkon's possession for quite some time now. It is, when used properly, able to increase the potency of our powers."

Brodith's eyes flickered with interest. He couldn't imagine feeling more powerful, not when a single spell was enough to suck the life out of a human. Anything more was as unimaginable to him as the strength of the Vampire Lord was to him before.

"He has neglected using it for ages. If he wants it filled now, then grander things are afoot. This is good." The dunmer grinned. "Follow me, I'll take you to it."

As he followed the dark elf, Garen explained the situation to him.

"Lord Harkon has never cared to use the Chalice, relying on his more than adequate powers until now. This is an intriguing change."

Garan eventually ran into the two bickering vampires Brodith had run into before. The dunmer's face twitched in annoyance before he spoke. "Excuse us. I need to fetch the Bloodstone Chalice."

The two vampires ceased their argument before turning to them with wide eyes.

"The Chalice?" The altmer that he remembered had announced Serana's arrival asked in confusion. "Why?"

"What're you up to, Garan?" The Nord vampire growled.

Garan rolled his eyes. "Lord Harkon's orders, Orthjolf. Calm yourself. Our friend here," he motioned to Brodith, "has been ordered to fill the Chalice.

The human backed down, although his eyes flickered to Brodith with both envy and dislike.

"Really?" Asked the altmer incredulously.

"Indeed." Garan said. "He's off to Redwater Den."

"Well, then…Best of luck to you." Orthjolf smirked. Brodith frowned as he followed Garan into a small side chamber. Before they had reached it the two vampires had already begun to argue again.

When the dunmer saw Brodith turn his head to look at the two again he explained.

"Vingalmo and Orthjolf are Lord Harkon's primary advisors." He smirked. "I'm sure they're quite surprised to learn that it is you that is taking the Chalice."

Brodith ignored the hidden warning in the dark elf's words. They arrived in the chamber, and he saw a large metal chalice that was covered with spikes.

"Now, this Chalice needs to be filled directly from the bloodspring that is the source of Redwater Den. But that's not enough. Once that's done, the blood of a powerful vampire needs to be added to it. Keep in mind that Redwater Den has fallen into… well, let's just say less reputable members of society now dwell there."

He frowned, not wanting to test his new powers against vampires. Although he wasn't sure if they would give him more power or not, he found that he wanted to see just what his new form could do to mortals. Despite his annoyance, he listened to Garan as the dunmer resumed speaking.

"It's your choice whether to attempt to deal with them or force your way through. Hurry back. You don't want to keep Lord Harkon waiting." Garan warned. "I suggest you leave for Redwater Den as soon as possible. It has been marked on the map we put in your bag. By the way, the watchman will get you to the shore."

Brodith nodded his understanding and left the Chalice's room behind. As he turned to leave, the sound of hammering from a room not far away reminded him of an issue that he needed to fix. He withdrew his sword, something that didn't bother the vampires around him in the least.

The bosmer examined the blade to see if they had somehow fixed it in the hours he had been unconscious. As he'd expected, however, it still possessed the dent at the tip. He sheathed the Skyforge blade and made his way to the room where he had heard the unmistakable sounds of a forge.

He went in and easily found the blacksmith. She was a Nord, and smiled up at him as he walked over. Brodith wasted no time, wanting to complete his task as soon as possible.

"I need you to do a small repair for me. It's nothing difficult, just a small dent." He withdrew the blade and showed it to the vampire, whose eyes widened as she took in the sight of the blade.

"This is Skyforge steel! I haven't seen this since I was in the Companions!"

"You were in the Companions?" The bosmer asked.

She distractedly nodded as she took the sword from his hands. "A long time ago. Anyways, I can fix this the moment I'm done with Lord Harkon's request. Are you going to be here for the next day or so?"

He shook his head. "I'm going on a mission for Lord Harkon, but I should be gone for a few days. Will it be done by the time I get back?"

"Definitely." The Nord said as she examined the weapon. "It won't take very long, so I might be able to slip it in with Lord Harkon's order."

Brodith nodded his thanks and left. He probably wouldn't be using his sword on this mission anyways. The urge to unleash the full potential of his new form was just too appealing. The bosmer left the warmth and alluring scent of the castle behind, and ventured out into the cold of Skyrim.

His resistance to cold had grown even stronger, correlating with his increase in power. He hardly noticed it anymore, and the weather had calmed enough that there weren't any noticeable winds. The worst aspect of the weather around Volkihar Castle at the moment was the thick fog, although his improved vision let him see through it slightly better than he had before.

The large stone bridge was still slick from ice and snow, but it didn't bother him. He reached the other side with little difficulty and found that the watchman had already made his way to the boat. Now that the waves were no longer pounding onto the shore with enough force to crush a man to the ground he put slightly more faith into the decrepit vessel.

"Hello," the lesser vampire said to him, bowing his head submissively as he spotted Brodith, "I suppose you need to be taken back to shore? If so, you picked a good time. The weather hasn't been this calm in weeks."

"Do you require my assistance?" He asked as he stepped into the boat. The watchman shook his head.

"I've been ferrying this boat for longer than you've been alive. And in this calm of weather I'll barely have to pay attention."

Brodith nodded in satisfaction and sat in the back part of the boat. When he was secure, the watchman began to row across the icy waves. As the watchman had said, it was an easy trip. They made it across in no time, and he was hardly affected by the crossing.

The vampire nodded his thanks to the watchman before moving on. Redwater Den was a long way away, and Harkon would be expecting the filled Chalice soon. And failing Harkon – creator, his mind whispers again – was not an option.

So he set off, eyes alight with the prospect of the upcoming bloodshed.

Xx

Just as most of his recent journeys had been, it was rather dull. Nothing but deer and a few travelers crossed his path, and there was no reason to kill any of them. He didn't need to give the Dawnguard anything they could work with in order to learn his location, and deer were hardly sufficient prey.

He had found himself travelling mostly at night. In the first day, his arrogance in presuming that he would be greatly resistant to the sun in his new form was shattered. When he had left the all encompassing clouds that covered the mountains and far north, he had felt the first rays of the sun meet his skin.

Although he felt no pain, Brodith could feel what it was doing to his body. He grew weary, something that had become alien to him in the few days he had been a vampire. Quite frankly, the feeling of weakness and frailty that the sun forced upon him terrified the newly created Vampire Lord. The greatest amount of his arrogance and confidence in his false invulnerability was shattered as he realized just how weak he could be.

To avoid the feeling of weakness – something he'd spent his whole life fighting, striving to better himself to stave it off – he realized that he would have to lower himself to the level of his diseased kin. So, still reeling from the realization that his transformation had not made him all-powerful, he began to hide during the day. That had the unfortunate side effect of making his journey dull – few bandits actually preyed upon unwary travelers at night, as that was when the creatures of the night hunted.

Brodith shifted into his alternate form to increase the pace of his travels, realizing just how great barreling down the roads with his outstretched wings was. It made him feel free, freedom he hadn't felt since escaping from the Waterfront and the hellish life it offered.

Of course, it also forced him to keep tight control of his urges and emotions. In the Vampire Lord form, he wanted to slay everything he could find and absorb its energy into itself. The desire for power rang stronger in that form as well, and it constantly tempted him with the desire to destroy and kill.

He overcame it, and instead dominated the form. Over the three days it took him to journey to Redwater Den, he gained slightly more control over it and the instincts that came with it were more easily ignored. But that only made him realize just how powerful he truly was, and he ached to exercise his great power.

And that was why when arrived at Redwater Den in the dead of night, crossbow on his back and dagger in its sheath, he was practically trembling in anticipation. Brodith realized that he didn't have the desire to do an infiltration at this point, and instead prepared to tear into the Den with the ferocity of a Vampire Lord.

That step was, unfortunately, for later. He doubted it would be easy to get into the Den in the larger form, so he would have to kill anyone on the outside himself.

Brodith was thankful that he still had access to some of his powers. It made discovering where the sentries were located much easier. One was sitting down on the outside of the small, run down shack, holding a large axe across his lap. The other was inside the house, although the bosmer was only able to get a small glance at him from any angle. That one would have to be either drawn out to be shot with the crossbow or killed with the dagger.

Holding his breath, Brodith carefully lined up his shot. When he was confident that it would hit the sentry – hopefully fatally – he fired. The bolt was slightly off its mark, however, and the sentry let out a yelp of pain as the projectile buried itself into his unarmored arm.

He cursed as the sentry called for help, and quickly lined up another shot. The sentry was moving, making it slightly harder, but he managed to shoot the retreating man in the back. When the man fell forward, Brodith instantly sprung into action. He moved to the far right, where there was somewhat decent coverage, and put the crossbow on his back.

The bosmer withdrew the dagger from its sheath and snuck forward under the cover of darkness. He could see the unharmed sentry now, kneeling next to his companion and shaking him in panic. This was too easy.

Thanks to his cover, he easily crept up behind the man and slit his throat in a single, smooth motion. The dagger cut from ear to ear, and Brodith was glad that the large man hadn't been wearing armor that would close the gap between the chest and helmet that he had just taken advantage of.

Certain that there were no other sentries, Brodith searched around for a way to get into the Den. He found the small trapdoor in a short amount of time and quietly opened it up, not wanting to alert any additional sentries of his presence.

He climbed down the ladder, silently praying that no one would be waiting for him. When he reached the bottom the bosmer quickly turned around to examine his surroundings. Brodith didn't like the fact that he was in a narrow hallway, but continued onwards without hesitation. At the base of the stairs was a small room, and he stealthily went down the stairs.

When he reached the bottom, he looked into the room for just a moment. The lone guard didn't see him and continued staring blankly at a wall. Brodith thought that rather odd, but didn't let it distract him as he withdrew his crossbow and lined up the shot. A few seconds later he was satisfied and released the trigger, sending the bolt flying into the man's throat.

Brodith ignored the scent of the man's blood, although he noted that it smelled wrong somehow, as though it belonged to someone else. The realization came suddenly, and he nearly face palmed when he saw that the man must have been the thrall of another vampire.

Now that the guard was dead, he pushed open the door. It led to another narrow stairway. He scowled and crept down. When he reached the bottom he saw that it had led into a much larger room, and what looked to be a bar protected by iron rods stood in front of him.

The bosmer eyed the barkeeper, but suddenly smelled the unforgettable scent of skooma. He wrinkled his nose at the offending scent and felt a renewed vigor to destroy this place. One of his brothers had been a skooma addict, and it had given him a lasting hatred of the drug.

Seeing that the barkeeper – or dealer – hadn't noticed him, Brodith smiled wickedly. He moved into the room until he had sufficient space and then began the transformation.

It was over quickly, with little of the pain he had had previously. The roar he let out at the end of the transformation attracted the bored dealer's attention, and she screamed at the sight of him. Brodith grinned at her as his blood burned with power and his mind roared at him to suck the life out of her.

Brodith kindly obliged, lazily thrusting his right hand out at her. The swirling ball of red energy that was released impacted her square in the chest – his aim was quite good, allowing him to barely shoot it through the bars – and a tendril of the energy connected him to her. The altmer's mouth gaped in surprise as her life force was torn away from her, fuelling the great power of a being many times her greater.

The spell had attracted the attention of an attendant, who had come running with his blade drawn the moment he had seen it. When the attendant – a rather large imperial – saw who had cast the spell, he froze. Brodith smiled at him, exposing his massive fangs, before draining his life. No one else came in a pathetic attempt to stop the Vampire Lord, presumably because they were too dead to the world to realize what was going on.

He idly floated around the corner, ignoring the corpses he had produced. They were meaningless, less than trash.

His bloodthirsty smile grew wider as he saw the numerous rooms, each with skooma smoke pouring out from it. Brodith easily swept aside the light curtain that hid the inhabitants from his view before draining their life. Each looked at him with bleary eyes, clearly not understanding anything that was going on, before their life was torn from them.

Brodith had gained a small amount of power from their deaths, but not as much as he would have liked. It didn't matter, though. He was surprised he had gotten that much from the addicts considering that half of them seemed about to die anyways.

When a locked gate got in his way, he growled in annoyance before reverting to his true form. He wasn't sure how strong he was, but he doubted that he would be able to break through an iron gate. So he pulled out his lockpick and went to work at the lock, carefully prodding and turning as he eased his tools into position. After a few minutes of patiently tinkering with the gate, he finally found the right position.

The bosmer carefully opened the gate, glaring at it in annoyance as it creaked loudly from the movement. He then slipped past the gate and into the formerly protected area. Brodith spotted a few bags of coins and several potions, but he ignored them. His bag couldn't hold much more, and he didn't have an overwhelming need of gold at the moment.

There was light falling into the small tunnel to his left, and he crept through it. When he saw that the passage led to a large, cavernous room filled with what looked like distilleries, as well as flimsy looking wooden platforms and bridges. He could also hear voices, loud enough that they had to have come from the cavern.

Brodith took care to stay in the shadows as he transformed, although he couldn't hold back the powerful roar that erupted from his throat as the process was completed. His sharp ears could hear several exclamations of confusion and fear, as well as one asking "What was that?".

He waited to see if any of the voices' sources would try to investigate his roar, and wasn't disappointed when a human – his glazed eyes gave him away as a thrall – cautiously stepped up the wooden ramp to his position. The human turned into his hiding place, dagger raised, and saw Brodith's snarling form.

Brodith could see pure, unadulterated fear in the man's eyes, briefly overwhelming the enthrallment before regaining control. With little concern for his safety, the man charge at him with the dagger raised high. The Vampire Lord met him head on, easily overpowering the fragile human.

The bosmer wrapped the man in his unfurled wings, muffling the moan of agony that emerged from the man's mouth as Brodith tore into the side of his neck, deeply drinking from the gaping wound. When Brodith was done, he felt oddly refreshed. His body felt just the slightest bit more powerful, something that confused him.

It seemed Harkon had left out that detail, instead leaving him to believe that he had to drain lives to become more powerful. Perhaps his other abilities needed to be examined more closely when he was finished with this mission.

He supposed it didn't matter right now, the bosmer mused as he allowed the pale corpse to drop to the ground with a thunk. All he needed to do was fill that Chalice and kill a vampire to complete the ritual. Then he would be free to explore the full realm of his abilities.

His thoughts came to an abrupt end as he heard concerned calls for the dead man. Brodith shrank into the shadows, his body nearly invisible in the darkness. He silently awaited for his prey to approach, absentmindedly licking his fangs.

Soon enough, a lesser vampire and her own thrall had arrived. The vampire gasped as she saw the massive piece of the man's neck that had been torn out, and Brodith thought that she might be ill. She likely thought that a werewolf had done it from the sheer size of the wound.

Unfortunately, Brodith gave the lesser vampire no time to call out a warning. He hissed and leapt out, easily latching onto the surprised woman's neck. In an instant he had ended her time as an undead, and her thrall blinked stupidly for a moment before he realized that something was wrong. The man looked at the newly formed pile of vampire dust with confusion before looking around.

The man – a fellow bosmer, although that meant little to Brodith anymore – looked as though he was about to scream as he saw the tall form of the Vampire Lord. Wanting to keep some sort of stealth advantage as he hunted these miserable creatures, he was promptly silence by Brodith's drain life ability.

As he looked down at the corpses, relishing the look of terror that was permanently imprinted on their faces, the Vampire Lord had an idea. He levitated slightly into the air, looking at the swirling, ghostly blue orb in his left hand in curiosity. He had wanted to test his powers, after all, and there was no time like the present.

So with a look of curiosity – a strange expression on his monstrous face, one that twisted it into an even more terrifying visage – he force the ball out of his hand and onto the bosmer he had just slain. He would have used the vampire, but she had the unfortunate fate of bursting into dust upon death. That was a rather annoying flaw, he realized, as it kept him from creating thralls that potentially had centuries of experience.

Still, he just wanted to try out his new abilities. He could wait before finding a powerful thrall. Brodith watched with a wide smile of satisfaction on his face as the magic engulfed the bosmer's fallen corpse. A bond between them formed, one much stronger than the one he had had with his first resurrected thrall.

The mindless thrall stared at him blankly, his dead eyes lacking the glazed look of living thralls. Brodith then realized he had no idea what to do – he had simply looked at his first thrall in amazement, too shocked at the fact he had actually managed to successfully use magic to comprehend whatever Serana had been telling him.

It couldn't be too hard, he thought. Lesser vampires could command their thralls with ease, so it should be an extremely simple task for a vampire of his stature to do. He decided to try and command the thrall with a thought, since he couldn't think of a simpler way.

Kneel, he commanded in his mind. His grin grew wider when it did so, prostrating itself before its master. It stayed there, feeling no pain from the rough wood beneath it.

Enthused by his success, he ordered the thrall to rise. Now that he at least knew the basics of what to do, he ordered it to step out of the tunnel and into the cavern. With any luck the vampires wouldn't notice the swirls of necromantic magic that surrounded him, or the side of his neck that was torn out.

Neither were very likely, he admitted to himself. No vampire would be blind enough to not see the wound, and they would each smell the scent of dead blood that reeked from the walking corpse. And even if they somehow missed the two obvious signs, there was still the obvious magic that kept the corpse moving. At the very least it would attract their curiosity.

His simple strategy was rewarded by shrill shouts from the cavern's remaining inhabitants, and he frowned as he felt the bond with his thrall being violently severed. A few seconds later he heard several shouts of rage and just as many pairs of feet storming up the bridge to his hiding place.

Two thrall's sighted him first, a look of fear springing up in their eyes before being overridden by their masters. They were easily felled by a single drain life spell, and their suddenly cold bodies collapsed to the ground in midstep.

Their masters turned around the corner next. They stared at their dead thralls for a moment before glancing up at the monster that was waiting for them. Brodith waited for them to start running before sucking the life out of them.

Brodith enjoyed this. This wasn't combat, this was butchery. The lesser creatures had no chance to defeat him, and no way to evade him. He was the ultimate predator; a lion amongst sheep, just as Harkon had said.

When no more arrived, he floated out. He didn't bother to create a thrall this time, since he wanted to know what his capabilities were. Brodith levitated down the ramp and up the hard dirt slope, following the thin boards. The bosmer followed the passageway it led to before coming to a forge.

It was well-stocked with everything a blacksmith could possibly need. Rows of tools hung on the wall, and he could see boxes of ingots and leather, as well as a barrel of some sort of oil, lined up against the wall. A vampire was pounding a large hammer into the red-hot portion of a sword, the loud chinks hurting his sensitive ears.

The blacksmith paid him no attention as he floated behind him, the noise from the hammer drowning out anything Brodith made. Brodith dropped down to his feet a little ways from the vampire, readying his claws. In a single motion he stepped up behind the vampire and wrenched his sharp claws into the small man's shoulders. The vampire tried to scream, but it dissolved into a moan of agony as Brodith stabbed his fangs into the blacksmith's neck.

When the lesser vampire fell over, his flesh sizzling as his face landed on the heated blade before he dissolved into dust, Brodith stood up. He felt slightly more power flow into him from the man's death, but he was distracted from the addicting sensation of the power's transfer by the great heat of the forge.

He had to admit that the vampire he'd just killed was impressively tough to stay in the vicinity of such heat for long, especially when a thrall could have done the job for him. Brodith sent a grudging look of respect at the coarse white dust before moving on.

A few feet away there was another way leading to an upraised bridge. Brodith gladly left the heat of the forge. He looked at the bridge in confusion for a moment, wondering just how he was supposed to get it down. In a halfhearted attempt, he tried pushing the bridge down. Despite the force behind it, the wood didn't so much as budge.

Annoyed, he bared his fangs at the bridge before floating away. He looked around the forge to see if there was a lever or chain he had missed, but soon realized that there was nothing but iron ingots and tools. The Vampire Lord then searched the area past the bridge, and grinned when he saw a lever.

He easily pulled it down, forcing the bridge to collapse onto the pillar of rock and dirt that brought the two sides together. Now that the bridge was down he floated to the other side, hoping that he hadn't exhausted the Den's supply of prey. There were plenty of powers he wanted to try out, after all.

A predatory grin grew on his face as he slowly floated down another set of ramps, as he could hear the blood that pounded underneath skin. Slight taps could be heard, and when he got a better view of the short cavern he was in he realized that he had stumbled into a mine.

Small carts loaded with large chunks of rock were scattered around, and he could see a solitary miner steadfastly picking away at the rock wall. Brodith couldn't see anymore miners or vampires around, but he could sense other presences around him. He even thought that he heard the familiar creaking of a skeleton.

He idly floated at the miner, not even giving him time to realize his new guest before draining his life. Brodith didn't even bother to look at the man before floating into his next target: a section of the tunnels that looked to be ancient Nordic in design.

Just as he passed the threshold into the new area, the skeleton he heard earlier shambled towards him. Brodith looked at it as he sucked the energy out of it. The swirling glow of necromantic energy that served as its eyes vanished, now empowering the Vampire Lord.

Before he had moved on from his latest victim, someone blasted arcs of bright electricity at him. It didn't do much damage, but the pain it caused more than made up for it. Had he been in his true form he would have been incapacitated, but as a Vampire Lord it barely fazed him.

He hissed as he turned towards his attacker, sending a drain life spell in its direction. A shimmering ward negated the worst of its power, but he could see that his attacker – a pretty imperial woman that was dressed in lightly glowing robes – was still weakened by the attack.

Taking advantage of her weakness, he blasted her with another drain life spell. That one finished her off, and he hissed at the thrall's corpse one last time before he moved on. He floated over the blank-eyed corpse, not sparing her a glance as he went down the passage she was guarding.

It was annoying bright from several torches and large urns of burning oil, but nowhere near as bright enough to weaken him. Nevertheless, he made sure to use his wings in order to get through the stone passage more quickly. At the end there was a fake rock wall next to a chain, easily visible despite the light that obscured his vision.

His claws were too large to fit into the small metal hoop, so instead he grabbed the outer part of it before pulling. The false stone shifted backwards and dropped down into its frame, the ancient gears groaning in protest all the while.

The new passage led downwards, and he could see that it was noticeably darker. A dim glow could be seen at the bottom, but it barely held back the darkness. It morphed from Nordic architecture to bare stone walls, clumsily excavated and reinforced in several areas by thick wooden beams.

Brodith had to crouch to get through the low tunnel, and almost had to revert to his true form to get through. He barely squeezed through, but finally arrived at another doorway. A coffin was in the small room he could see, and he could smell the rotting scent of death hounds.

As he entered, standing up to his full height, the coffin sprung open. He heard the low, bestial growls a second before the death hounds entered his vision, charging across the left side of the room before trying to leap at him.

He drained their life in mid leap, the blood red energy suffusing their forms before creating a tendril that attached to Brodith. A pitiful whine erupted from their dripping, icy maws as they fell. Brodith heard an outraged shriek from the coffin's inhabitant. A dim red glow engulfed her hand before she raised it, blasting a burst of hissing energy at him.

The vampiric drain spell barely affected him, and he laughed at her before slowly floating towards her. He savored her fear, his instincts enjoying the thrill it gave him. When she finally realized that her attempt at harming him had done little, the vampire tried to run away. Brodith idly raised a hand and drained the life from her. Her body crumbled into dust a few moments later, erasing the look of surprise on her pale face.

Brodith paid little attention to the various work stations the vampire had put up, instead choosing to float past them. He looked around as he moved into the passage the vampire had tried to escape into, choosing to head to the right. The Vampire Lord floated up the stairs, hissing in surprise as he realized that the hall was brightly lit by all manner of torches and flame.

Like before, he simply hastened his journey through it. He pushed through the large wooden doors at the end of it with his full strength, sending them slamming forwards. When he got through into more dim ruins, he quickly closed the doors to block the light.

There was a thick set of bars blocking a doorway to his left, and a large area to his right. He gloated over and looked around for a moment before he heard voices. Brodith paid little attention to their words, instead following the stairs that led downwards.

The people speaking didn't notice anything, and he carelessly floated forwards when he saw the end of the stairs. Brodith hissed in surprise as he fell into a hidden circle, his levitation doing little to help him as he fell downwards.

He managed to stop himself on a thick wooden beam, but realized that he couldn't escape the trap. His wings weren't meant for flying, after all. At best they were used to propel him forward and let him trap his prey.

Brodith looked down into the shadows of the pit and realized that there were a large amount of long, pointed wooden spikes at the bottom. He saw that the very edges were safe, and carefully dropped himself downward. The spikes were mere inches away from where he'd dropped, and it was only due to his levitation that he didn't stumble from the fall and into the spikes.

The bosmer carefully edged around the spikes until he finally reached the small doorway that would allow him to leave. Just before he moved forward, he saw massive metal objects swinging across the hall. He cursed, recognizing the damned things from several ruins he'd ventured into.

Before they had taken him quite a while to traverse, and often left him with some sort of injury. He stared at it for a few moments before wondering whether he had some way to instantly pass through the hall. It would save him time and keep him from being shot at by anyone who happened to find him.

He felt the power burning in his blood, and he tried to force the image of the hallway's end into his mind. The stone right in front of the oddly placed chest was his goal, and he envisioned himself appearing in front of it.

His blood burned, making it feel as though his veins were being burned away, and he roared in agony. Then his body split apart, and his mind felt as though it were in hundreds of smaller fragments for just a moment before it reformed into a solid whole.

Brodith's cruel eyes widened in confusion and awe as he looked at the chest a mere foot away. He looked backwards, just to make sure he really had changed positions. The Vampire Lord tried to remember what exactly had happened, but could only thing of the beating of hundreds of wings.

The bosmer shrugged, filing the information away for later. Surely Serana would know what had happened, and if not he could ask Harkon. It seemed to be quite the useful ability, and he was annoyed that his mentor hadn't seen fit to mention it to him.

Of course, he thought, that seemed to be true about a lot of things when it came to this form.

He took his mind off of those matters. They were a trivial concern for now, and would be until he actually completed this mission and had time to think.

So he turned and floated to the curved ramp, carefully listening for any sign that someone had learned his location. When he floated out into the open cavern, he couldn't detect anyone's fear or normal signs that the might have noticed him.

Brodith turned, silently looking for the sources of those voices he had heard earlier. When they began talking again, about some sort of leader, he zeroed in on their location. He slowly floated over, seeing that it was a thin female vampire and her thrall, a massive orc.

The bosmer was somewhat surprised by the fact she was speaking to her thrall – most simply obliterated the mind of the thrall unless they were extremely important or required for some other task – but the thrill of the upcoming feeding quelled it. He could smell death hounds nearby, but they didn't seem to be snarling at his presence yet.

"—So why don't you just enthrall the addicts? They would probably be better as your cattle, less work anyway." The orc grunted. Brodith took that moment to roar, terrifying the vampire and making the thrall swiftly turn his gaze in his direction.

Brodith snarled at the brute before draining the life out of him. The waifish vampire cried out in despair as the orc fell to the ground, but he put her out of her misery soon enough. Now, however, the death hounds had begun roaring at him and trying to bite through the flimsy cages to get to him.

He decided to give them their chance. The bosmer carefully unlatched their door and yanked it open with his claws. Barely any time had passed before the monstrous canines bounded out of their pen, leaping at him with their icy jaws wide open. Brodith got a good look at one's oversized fangs before it dropped dead to the ground.

The other beast proved to be slightly more difficult. It hadn't been hit by his spell, and had managed to lock its powerful jaws around his arm. Brodith hissed at the unfamiliar sensation of pain and dropped to his feet. He tried to shake the death hound off, but the monstrous creature resolutely kept its jaws clamped down.

Brodith roared at the impudent monster and tried to tear into its throat. His arm was beginning to feel cold from the death hound's frosty breath, and he realized that the death hound was actually beginning to damage him. Unfortunately, even his fangs were barely able to penetrate the thick skin of the monster.

He struck at the death hound with his other hand, raking its face with his claws. Although it growled in pain, it continued to crunch down on his arm. His next attack, however, forced the beast off. Brodith clawed at its throat and a feral grin split his face as long gashes appeared in the hound's throat.

It backed off, whining as thick black blood poured from its throat. Brodith growled at it one last time before draining its remaining life force. As the energy travelled from the unnatural creature, Brodith felt the torn flesh on his arm knit back together as if the attack had never happened.

Brodith glared one last time at the body before finding his way up another curving wooden ramp. The stone bridge it led up to went into another hallway, where he found a chain. He pulled it and saw the bars that had previously obstructed his path vanish.

He went through the gate that had just opened next to him and passed through the hallway. The door led into the catacombs of this particular ruin, and he noticed that there were small puddles of red water on the ground. Brodith didn't pay it any attention, figuring that this was the red water that the Den was named for.

The Vampire Lord tore through his enemies as he passed through, not even bothering with stealth as he came across the vampires and their hounds. Oddly enough they had no thralls, but he supposed that only a few of the vampires could afford to keep them.

Eventually, he found another closed gate. A chain hung right next to it, and when pulled it opened it. He winced again at the lit area. Three doors were in the circular chamber, but he ignored the two wooden ones. They looked newer, which meant that they likely just led to a storeroom. Instead, he opened the door made of the same material most of the ancient Nordic ruins were.

His guess turned out to be right, as it led into another section of the catacombs. This part wasn't inhabited, so the smell of death lingered. It wasn't particularly pleasant, as it was only the scent of blood that made him override his usual aversion to the dead, but there weren't any enemies either.

Brodith noticed that he levitated over a pressure plate, and wondered what it would have triggered. His answer arrived as he turned the corner and saw the massive spiked wall that would have slammed into him had he been foolish enough to step on it. Several other traps were in the area, and he could see another spiked wall held up on the cave's ceiling.

The bosmer hurriedly floated through the room, making sure that there weren't any tripwires his feet might accidently snap. There were none, and he quickly opened the door at the end of the catacombs. It led into a large cavern, and he could see several forms moving in the darkness.

A sniff of the air told him that there were several vampires in the area, as well as two thralls. The familiar creaking warned him of a skeleton. Nothing that would seriously hinder him.

So he threw all caution to the wind and announced his presence with a fearsome roar. The figures all turned towards him, and in an impressive – or idiotic – display of courage they all attacked. Several bursts of lightning and ice streaked towards him, but he managed to dodge most. A single shard of magically glowing ice landed in his chest, but it wasn't sharp enough to penetrate his thick hide. It bounced off, landing on the cold stone where it shattered.

Brodith roared again, this time throwing his drain life spell at the thrall that was running at him with two axes raised. The thrall's eyes rolled back in his head as he dropped to the ground, his life transferred to the Vampire Lord. Two of the remaining vampires moved to attack him next, although they tried to drain his life from him while they were still out of melee range.

Their attacks did little, but just before he could suck their life out as well a sharp arrow plunged into his shoulder. Brodith snarled at the assault and tore the arrow out, ignoring the sharp pain that spread throughout the area as he did so.

Just as he prepared to drain their life to repair the damage, a door at the far end of the room opened and ten more combatants rushed out, moving to aid their fellows. For the first time Brodith felt nervous, suddenly lacking the confidence he had felt before. He was more than powerful enough to deal with either this group or the one that had just arrived, but he wasn't sure of his capability in striking down bot.

He wasted no more time, but instead drained the life of the two vampires that had charged. They exploded into dust, and Brodith roared again as the damage from the arrow healed. He heard the clatter of bones falling to the ground, so he supposed that one of those vampires had raised the skeleton.

It was then that the larger group finally got in range. Nearly all of them began to fire streams of lightning at him, the cumulative effect stunning him. Eventually his resistance to pain kicked in and he roared yet again, firing a drain life spell at the massed group. His left hand raised the corpse of the thrall, giving the remainder of the group a distraction.

Unfortunately for him, the vampires in the front of the group had raised wards that negated some of the spell's effect. They were still weakened, and the wards flickered out of existence as they tried to regain their breath.

Three of them charged at the Vampire Lord with swords in one hand and spells in the other. They threw fireballs at him, which he caught full on in the chest. One of the survivors from the first group seemed to have found a bow, as an arrow had just bounced off of his chest.

Brodith began to wish that Serana was here to cover him. She would have torn the entire group apart. But she wasn't, so he had to do the best he could.

His thrall clumsily moved toward the vampires that were nearing its master, raising its axe to defend the Vampire Lord. It kept the two vampires off of him as Brodith assaulted the massed group of spellcasters, throwing drain life after drain life spell at them. Several of the weaker ones had succumbed to it already, although four of them were still going strong.

The Vampire Lord finally realized that the vampires would defeat him long before he managed to overwhelm the wards that they were hiding behind. He roared in fury before draining the life of the two vampires that had just cut down his thrall. They collapsed into dust, and he noticed that the mages had shifted their spells from the agonizingly painful lightning to the much more dangerous fire.

He glared at the vampires before he envisioned himself appearing in front of them. His blood boiled again as his mind split up into hundreds of different fragments, sending him reeling in temporary confusion before it reformed with his body.

His foes were shocked for a moment, and hadn't recovered yet before Brodith tore into them with his claws. Their powerful wards did little to defend against him now, and two were dead before they could realize what was going on. Brodith killed the next with a single swipe, separating the head from the shoulders with his claws.

The last one he tore into, enveloping the pale man in his wings before latching onto the neck. He drank deeply, taking far more than the vampire could handle. Brodith felt refreshed as the monster burst into dust. Some of the burns from the spells he'd suffered from healed, although he was still feeling the pain from his wounds.

Then an arrow bounced off of his boney wings. Brodith had actually forgotten about the little archer…too bad for the vampire that he had been reminded. He easily located the lesser being with his senses. It was cowering above him, seemingly safe from his wrath. The Vampire Lord grinned and used his newfound power to instantly appear in the man's face.

Although he wanted to say some witty comment, something that would imprint upon the vampire just how foolishly he'd acted in alerting Brodith to his presence, he decided that tearing his throat out was just as good a way as any. He felt a slight desire to just do it with his claws and ignore the small power boost he would get, but decided that he needed as much power as possible.

So his fangs met the terrified man's throat, draining out all of the blood the vampire had. The man's eyes rolled up in the back of his head just before he exploded into dust.

Brodith used his new power to move back to the ground, now barely having to focus on his destination. He simply thought of it, his blood boiled and then he found himself standing there. It was quite useful.

All that was between him and the door was a long stone table with several drained corpses lying on top of it. He simply levitated around it and went through the small door, ducking to avoid smashing his head against it. When he entered the new area – a large cavern – he could see a strange well of blood red water and energy bubbling in the center of the room. Deeming this to be the area he needed to fill the Chalice from, he reverted to his true form.

When the transformation was complete, Brodith dug around in his bag for the Chalice. He carefully withdrew it, ensuring that he wouldn't be cut on the jagged spikes that adorned it. When he had it in his grasp, the bosmer walked down to the well. The bosmer saw that several bloody bones were in it, and he could smell the alluring scent of blood as he crouched and filled the Chalice with the water.

He stood up and covered the top with a layer of leather with similar enchantments to his armor – it would keep any of the precious water from dripping out on the journey. As he prepared to leave, he saw two humanoid forms slip out from behind a wall. When they grew closer, he could see that they were two vampires he vaguely recognized from Castle Volhikar. Doubting they were here to help him, he carefully set the Chalice down.

"It's really too bad, you know." The female said dramatically. "The little accident you had here completely unexpected…"

Brodith snarled, preparing for a fight. The transformation would barely take any time, but he didn't know how fast these vampires would be. Any preparation at all would be a boon.

"Yeah, too bad." The male said. "Lord Harkon's new favorite, dead so soon after joining the family."

"We'rejust lucky I was here to return the Chalice to Vingalmo," she said, eying the glimmering Chalice with desire, "so he could make sure Harkon gets it back."

"Wait, what?" The male exclaimed. "That's not what we agreed. We take it back together."

"Idiot." She sneered. "You didn't really think I'd let you walk out of here either, did you? Vingalmo wants you both dead."

"Well that's just fine. Orthjolf told me to finish off anyone who got in the way."

A sudden roar interrupted the fools. During their little spat Brodith had transformed into the glorious form of a Vampire Lord. The lesser creatures backed away in fear as the paragon of their kind glared at them with rage in its eyes.

"Fools!" Brodith hissed, his words cutting into their feeble minds. They screeched in agony as he imbued the words with hatred and power that few beings possessed. "Did you think to defeat a Vampire Lord so easily? Compared to me you are but specks of dust! I am the hunter, you are little more than glorified leeches that have managed to burrow their way into our graces."

The bosmer roared once again as he leapt into action, his claws tearing into the female's chest. She was forced on the ground, but it was not a fatal blow. When he was sure that she was incapacitated the Vampire Lord turned to her ally.

He lunged at him, but the man was surprisingly tough. The lesser creature raised his axe and forced it into Brodith's shoulder. It was a grievous and painful wound, but it did little to stall the enraged bosmer. Before the man could dodge the claws, Brodith had forced his massive fangs into the vampire's pale throat. The man screamed in pain before Brodith drained everything out of him.

In a few seconds the man exploded into dust. Brodith sneered at it before reverting to his true form. The bosmer walked over to the woman's position. She was beginning to recover, and he could see the familiar sight of a drained health potion lying next to her.

Brodith scowled at her before brutally kicking her in the face. She gasped as the thick leather impacted her cheek, shattering it and knocking her back down. The ancient vampire was huddled in the fetal position, looking like nothing more than a crying child.

He took advantage of her weakness to recover the Chalice, which he then brought back to her. To keep her from trying anything Brodith grabbed her by the throat and held her in front of him. His left hand carefully withdrew his dagger and he leveled the fearful woman's head a few inches above the Chalice.

The bosmer carefully circled around her and put his dagger up to her throat. She could feel the blade pressing harshly against it, drawing a thin line of blood.

"You should be honored." Brodith whispered into her ear. "Not many can claim to have been a vital part of Lord Harkon's rise to power."

With that he cut her throat, allowing as much of the blood as possible to drain into the Chalice. It barely changed the color of the water, although it was clearly thicker. When the blood flow began to thin, he pulled the Chalice away and covered it. A few seconds later the drained vampire exploded into dust.

Brodith smiled as his task was completed and carefully picked up the precious Chalice. He walked over to where they had emerged from and found a door. The bosmer continued to follow the path until it led to a gateway into a store room of some sort. After looking around for a moment Brodith found the exit, which led him into the bar in which the dealer had been drained of her life.

The dealer's corpse was still staring up at the sky with glazed eyes, and Brodith paid no attention to her. He wanted to return to Harkon and present the Chalice. Hopefully it would be the last task he had to do for a while, or at least until Serana had found some sort of explanation for the odd feelings he was experiencing.

It was with a grimace on his face that he emerged from the Den, silently hating the sunlight that singed his face. He sighed and began his journey back to the lonely castle, raising his hood as he stepped out of the ruins of the home and onto the overgrown road.