Aerin's Odyssey: The Battle Against Hermaeus Mora

I remember it was a misty morning when I set off from home. The sun shone through the thick, misty air in golden beams, highlighting the emerald and red leaves of the autumn trees. I’d grown up in these forests; my father had been keen for me to learn how to fend for myself before I could walk. He often told me that I was born on the coldest night he could remember, and that he knew even then that I would have a life full of warmth. My mother often smiled knowingly at this, but never said anything.

I wasn’t quite sure why I had chosen to leave home though. I suppose it was because the little hamlet had begun to feel too small. There were only twelve families living there, each with their own house and garden, and we all knew each other like family. But as the years passed and the children grew up, the hamlet began to shrink, until there were only six families remaining. All our children had left as soon as they hit their teenage years, spreading out across Cyrodiil in search of something they couldn’t define themselves by. It seemed as though everyone wanted to prove something by leaving home: that they weren’t just some stupid kid who didn’t know any better. But I always thought that it meant more if you stayed at home, where your roots lay deep in the soil.

My journey took me past the hamlet first; it looked so small from a distance, hidden among the trees like a secret no one else knew about. My feet carried me onwards until I reached a cliff edge overlooking Blackwood Lake, named after the thick blackness of its water once you cast your eyes down into its depths. From here you could see for miles around; far off in one direction you could see Red Ridge Mountains rising above the forests like pillars supporting the sky itself. In another direction lay the Boiling Sea with its jagged rocks thrust straight up out of the waves like swords waiting to pierce through any ship which dared sail too close to them. Across on one side of Blackwood Lake was another lake called Lost Lake which held many secrets beneath its surface - secrets that some believed could never be answered by mortals such as ourselves.

As my gaze swept over Blackwood Lake towards Lost Lake, a movement caught my eye below me - someone was walking along one of the walkways built on stilts over Blackwood Lake! The walkways crossed from point to point across Blackwood Lake without touching either bank; they were anchored high up against solid rock on either side of the lake and stretched out over the water almost half way across it before reaching solid ground again further along on either side. Some people swore blind that some of these walkways did not reach land at all - that they were suspended in mid air over nothing but water and would plummet straight down into oblivion if anyone ever dared step onto them (and survived). But my father had always told me that they were safe enough; he’d walked along most of them himself during his younger years, back before he married my mother and settled down to raise us children instead.

The figure on one of these walkways stood still for a moment as though contemplating whether or not to continue onwards or turn back now before fate changed its mind about letting them live past this point. But then it started moving again - slowly at first, then gaining speed until it began running along the walkway towards where I stood on top of the cliff above Blackwood Lake looking down at it from above.

I watched patiently as the figure drew closer and closer to where I stood watching from above; soon I could see that it was a woman dressed all in black - black cloak flapping in time with her footsteps as she ran down towards Lost Lake below her feet. Her hair whipped wildly around her face as she raced forwards, obscuring all but her eyes which shone brightly blue against her dark clothes and skin like two stars shining through storm clouds on an otherwise cloudy night sky. As she rushed towards me her eyes locked onto mine and she slowed down slightly until finally she stopped running altogether less than ten meters away from where I stood watching her curiously.

"Are you lost?" I asked her curiously when she finally came to a stop right in front of where I stood leaning against one of those tall stone pillars my father used to tell me about when he talked about Red Ridge Mountains rising above us like pillars supporting heaven itself. She shook her head silently for a moment before speaking softly:

"No."

I studied her closely for a moment before asking cautiously: "Then why are you running?"

She bit down nervously on her lower lip before replying: "I'm trying to escape."

"From who?"

But she simply shook her head again "From him."