Chapitre 11: "The Seer"

??? POV

The stillness of the ancient chamber was disturbed, a fine layer of dust trembling into the air as a rumble echoed through the Wellspring of Vitality. Within the grand throne carved from obsidian and entwined with silvery threads of old magic, Morvan's eyes flickered open. His awakening wasn't marked by any grand gesture or sudden movement; instead, it was the subtle flaring of his dark eyes that heralded his return to consciousness.

From his vantage, shrouded by shadows and the dim, flickering light of age-old luminescent crystals, he could sense the disturbance at the entrance of the burrow. His lips curled into a half-smirk, half-snarl. "So, the Dragonborn hastens to meet her fate," he mused quietly, though he believed her to be alone. The notion of consuming her soul now to harness her raw potential was tempting, yet the strategist within him wondered if a stronger, more seasoned Sarah might offer greater rewards.

Choosing his role with the precision of a seasoned actor, Morvan shifted slightly, aligning himself with the persona he had prepared: the benevolent master of this once-sacred place. He recalled the essence and memories of the peak Restoration mage whose soul he had consumed centuries ago. It was a reservoir of wisdom and power he intended to exploit to weave a tapestry of trust and awe around Sarah.

As he contemplated his next moves, his thoughts drifted to his grand ambition—the Oracle of Ages, a title that promised not only supreme knowledge but also dominion over fates. Sarah, with her nascent powers and destined role, was the perfect pawn in his game of cosmic chess. She could, unwittingly, catalyze the chaos needed to bring about the ruin necessary for his ascension.

Morvan stretched out his senses, subtly retracting the more lethal defenses he had put in place. He could sense her approaching, quicker than he had anticipated, which spoke volumes of her abilities or perhaps the urgency of her quest. "A grave robber or a destined liberator?" he pondered, intrigued by her potential and the ease with which she had navigated the dangers thus far.

As she was getting nearer, he enacted his final preparation. Remaining seated on his throne, he adopted the guise of stillness, mimicking the statues that lined the hall of the Wellspring. Dust particles danced in the slivers of light as the grand doors creaked open, heralding the arrival of the one he had awaited for so long.

Sarah had finally entered his domain, her eyes scanning the dimly lit vastness of the hall with a warrior's caution. Morvan watched, his breath stilled in his chest, as she stepped forward, her gaze intent and searching.

Then, the unexpected occurred. Another figure stepped into view behind her, a man whose presence was as silent as it was undetectable. Morvan's heart, if it had beaten, would have skipped. His magic, his extensive networks of awareness, had failed to announce this second visitor.

"Who is he?" The question thundered in his mind, his composure cracking like the façade of the Wellspring itself. he started pacing until he found himself standing in the middle of the "lake". This man—Victor—was a variable Morvan had not foreseen, an anomaly that might well spell disaster or opportunity.

Morvan's keen senses detected the subtle shifts in the magical currents. His mind reached out, probing the energies surrounding the Dragonborn and her companion. As he observed their progress through Bleak Falls Barrow, his anticipation grew.

They were formidable, he acknowledged, watching Victor's skilled use of telekinesis. The man's meticulous looting also impressed Morvan. He watched as they battled through Draugr, their teamwork precise and deadly.

As they descended the hidden passageway, Morvan's interest deepened. This passage led directly to his sanctuary, a place of power and secrets. He sensed their curiosity and determination, traits that could be useful to him.

In the grand gallery, he observed Victor's telekinesis at work again, collecting statues and relics with a practiced ease. The man was thorough, ensuring nothing of value was left behind. Morvan admired this quality—it spoke of a mind attuned to the acquisition of power.

As they approached the final chamber, Morvan felt the weight of their presence, the anticipation of the encounter to come. He could sense the energy of the Wellspring resonating with their approach, a subtle acknowledgment of the power they brought with them.

And now, they stood before him, the culmination of his observations and preparations. The stage was set, and the true challenge was about to begin.

His eyes, cold as the frostbitten tundra of the Pale, tracked Victor's movement. The man advanced into the vast chamber with a quiet confidence – measured steps and a stern gaze that absorbed details like a wolf circling its prey. Beside him, Sarah moved with an almost ethereal grace, each step echoing her woodland heritage – silent, surefooted, and tempering caution with curiosity.

As they drew closer, Morvan felt that strange force again. It draped over the man like an invisible aura, inscrutable and otherworldly. He tasted the arcane energy in the air, tantalizing yet unfamiliar. His gut twisted uneasily.

As Victor's gaze met his, Morvan felt a chill, an instinctive recognition that the power shielding this stranger was not of this world or even this dimension. It was a force that treated him, a formidable puppeteer of souls and fates, like nothing more than a mere shadow.

Gathering his wits about him, Morvan forced his attention back onto Sara. He had a role to play after all; it was time for his grand performance. He silently commended himself on his dramatic choice of ambiance as he noticed Sara's wide-eyed admiration of his domain.

"Welcome," he called out, the sound of his voice heavy with age-old wisdom and authority. "I have waited long for this moment."

Startled by his sudden words, Sara paused mid-step, her eyes darting towards the lake. There was an eerie silence as Morvan's proclamation resonated in the vast chamber, as if the very stone walls were absorbing his declaration.

Slowly, Victor turned to face Morvan. His dark eyes held a cautious intelligence that mirrored his guarded stance. As they observed one another, Morvan felt the beginnings of a true challenge stirring within him. He was a seasoned predator within these mystical confines and Victor - an unknown entity in an unfamiliar land - was his newest prey.

Yet Victor held his gaze unfalteringly, a silent testament to his burgeoning resolve. The force shielding him pulsed stronger now - not a threat, but a reminder of the unknown power he commanded.

"Who... are you?" Victor asked, his question echoing through the ancient chamber, the notes of curiosity and wariness intermingling in his tone. His gaze remained locked on Morvan's silhouette, his stance unyielding.

"My name is Morvan," he replied, his voice unfurling like ebony smoke in the stagnant air. It echoed around them, a spectral whisper dancing through the spectral gloom. The hood of his cloak remained undisturbed, casting an impenetrable shadow over his features. "I am the guardian of the Wellspring, keeper of knowledge and time immemorial."

Something flickered in Victor's gaze - a spark that belied recognition or realization. Morvan watched him keenly, intrigued by whatever epiphany had struck the young Dragonborn.

Sara, silent on Victor's side, made no move to interrupt their exchange. She remained tense but patient – a coiled spring ready to react at a moment's notice. Her sharp eyes flitted between Victor and Morvan.

Victor's POV

He's eyes narrowed as he faced Morvan, the self-proclaimed guardian of the Wellspring. There was something about the figure that didn't sit right with him, a sense of foreboding that clung to the air like a thick fog. Trusting his instincts, he had decided to delve deeper, to peer beneath the surface of Morvan's carefully crafted façade. He whispered the incantation under his breath, activating Mystic's Gaze.

As the spell took hold, the room seemed to darken around the edges of Victor's vision, focusing his sight on Morvan. Threads of magic unraveled before him, revealing layers of enchantments and wards woven around the throne and its occupant. Morvan's aura was a tapestry of deep crimson and shadowy blacks, pulsing with a power that was both alluring and menacing.

The Mystic's Gaze pierced deeper, showing Victor glimpses of Morvan's true nature. There were shadows within him that twisted and writhed like serpents, secrets that spoke of dark deals and darker ambitions. It was clear that Morvan was more than just a guardian; he was a manipulator of fates, a being who had threaded the lives of many through his fingers, shaping outcomes to suit his mysterious ends.

Victor's focus sharpened as he detected a sliver of something powerful within Morvan—a resonance that seemed oddly familiar yet wholly alien. It was a fragment of something ancient, a remnant of power that Morvan had likely acquired or stolen from others. The realization that Morvan might have consumed the souls of others to augment his power sent a chill down Victor's spine.

Name: Morvan(Clone), Seeker of Souls

Origin: From the "Forsaken Land," specifically adapted as a sliver of the original being, enhanced through the consumption of numerous souls to gain independence and power.

Sequence 2: Epoch Sculptor

Description: At this nearly pinnacle level, Morvan can sculpt entire epochs, determining the rise and fall of civilizations through his mastery over fate and souls.

Abilities: Epoch-scale manipulation of historical and cultural developments; ability to summon and command legions of phantoms or soul-bound creatures; potential to create or dissolve nations through sheer will.

Core Attributes: A composite entity, Morvan combines multiple souls and arcane energies, interlaced with dark and forbidden practices aimed at ascending through his magical pathway.

Enchantments and Abilities

Aura of Cosmic Deception: His magical aura is intricately woven with layers of deception, designed to shield him from detection by entities of similar or lesser power, making his intentions and true power levels difficult to discern.

Soul Manipulation: Capable of consuming souls to gain power, Morvan can manipulate, control, and absorb the essences of others to enhance his magical abilities and prolong his existence.

Dimensional Adaptation: Reflecting his origin, Morvan has adapted to the magical and physical laws of Nirn, manipulating them to maintain his presence and operations without alerting other powerful beings in this world.

Visual Appearance Under the Gaze

Appearance: Appears as a sinister, dark-robed figure, with features that blur and shift, evading clear perception—an indication of his ability to manipulate his appearance and reality.

Robes: The robes are ancient, covered in esoteric symbols from his original world, pulsating with dark energies that resonate with the very essence of soul manipulation and fate bending.

Historical and Current Influence

Historical Background: Morvan who was once a skilled practitioner on "The Seer" pathway in the world of "Forsaken Land", is seeking to ascend to the highest echelons by consuming powerful souls.

Current Influence: Self-proclaimed Guardian of the Wellspring of Vitality in Skyrim, drawing on this land's ancient energies to compensate for the constraints imposed by his fragmented state.

Mystic's Gaze Insights

Structural Integrity of Magic: His magical construct, though formidable, shows signs of strain from dimensional transitions and the continuous need to consume souls, indicating potential instability.

Magical Resonance: Emits a complex, multi-layered magical signature, reflecting his deep connection to both his original world and his adopted realm.

Potential Vulnerabilities: His dependency on soul consumption for power and maintenance of his form poses a significant risk, potentially exploitable by disrupting his access to new souls or challenging his control over consumed ones.

Strategic Implications

Advisory: Morvan's background as a dimensional traveler and his quest for ultimate power make him unpredictable and extremely dangerous. His manipulation of souls and fate could have unforeseen consequences on Skyrim's metaphysical fabric.

Recommended Approach: Deadly. Gathering allies knowledgeable in cross-dimensional magic and soul manipulation, and possibly seeking artifacts or powers that can counter soul-based magics, would be strategic before confronting him directly.

As the insights from Mystic's Gaze deepened, a stark realization hit Victor: Morvan was not merely another ambitious mage of Skyrim. He was an intruder from another reality, a being whose essence was stitched together by the darkest of magics and the deepest of despairs from a world unknown to the scrolls and tales of Tamriel.

Victor's heart raced as the spell revealed more than just magical attributes—it hinted at Morvan's origins. The symbols on his robes, the design of his staff, even the echoes of his magical aura spoke of a place steeped in powers that did not obey the natural laws of Skyrim or any known world within the Elder Scrolls. A place where entities ascended through consuming the very fates of others.

An involuntary shiver ran down Victor's spine as he pieced together the implications. If Morvan hailed from such a world—a world where beings played with the fabric of reality as easily as a bard plucks strings—then the power disparity between them was immense. It was not merely a matter of more potent spells or greater reserves of Magicka; it was a fundamental difference in the nature of their existence.

Victor's thoughts raced, and a cold sweat beaded at his brow. His experiences in Skyrim, the dragons, the Daedric Lords, even the ancient and revered Aedra, all dwelled within a framework of known cosmology. But Morvan? He belonged to a narrative where such beings might be mere footnotes, their powers overshadowed by the capabilities of those who consumed realities.

A chill ran down Victor's spine as he realized the true reason they were still alive. Morvan, the ancient being before them, needed something from them. His eyes narrowed as he felt a sudden sense of dread, knowing that their lives hung in the balance.

"We seek only knowledge," Victor spoke up, his voice shaking slightly. "But we understand the gravity of our request and will not intrude upon your sacred duties."

Morvan's gaze bore into them, his presence overwhelming. "Knowledge is a powerful ally," he finally replied, his voice deep and resonant. "But it comes at a price. What knowledge do you seek?"

Victor hesitated, knowing that every word could be used against them. "We wish to understand the forces that shape this world, the ancient powers that lie beneath its surface," he answered carefully.

Morvan's lips curved into a cold smile. "You seek wisdom," he mused, his voice filling the chamber with an eerie echo. "I shall grant you what you desire, but know that not all truths come without consequences." The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, sending shivers down their spines as they awaited their fate.

Morvan's POV:

As Victor and Sara followed behind, I mulled over the revelation that had just struck me. Victor's presence had been a blind spot in my magical perception, an anomaly that defied explanation—until now. Realizing that he, too, must have originated from another world, a realm perhaps as fraught with power and peril as my own, was both unsettling and exhilarating. Here was not merely a stray soul to be manipulated, but a peer, potentially as formidable as any I had encountered in my long existence.

In Victor's silent, measured steps, I sensed a profound connection to the unseen currents of magic and fate. The Dragonborn, Sara, possessed a raw, potent destiny, but Victor—his was a subtler, deeper tapestry, woven with threads of arcane wisdom and otherworldly cunning. My usual strategies, so effective against the uninitiated, would need adapting.

Despite the urge to dominate and subdue, I restrained myself. The unknown variables that Victor represented—an unknown entity perhaps guarding him—advised caution. Until I could reach out to my original self and garner the full spectrum of my powers, overt aggression would be foolhardy. Skyrim's pantheon of Daedric and Aedric powers were formidable enough; I did not need to provoke a potentially more powerful overseer.

As we approached the inner sanctum where the Wall of Power stood, I contemplated my next steps. The potion I carried with me, "The Observer," would be the perfect tool to bind Victor to my will. By initiating him into the Pathway of "The Seer," I could weave a web of influence around him, subtle yet strong. This potion would not only grant him the sight to perceive beyond the veils of reality but also mark him, albeit unknowingly, as my acolyte.

"Victor, your journey into the deeper mysteries begins now," I spoke, my voice echoing slightly off the ancient stone walls. I presented the vial, its contents shimmering with a faint, otherworldly glow. "This potion will open your eyes to the unseen. Drink, and see the world as few can."

I watched, a flicker of anticipation dancing in my eyes as I gauged his reaction. Would he accept this gift freely, or would suspicion stay his hand?

For Sara, the strategy was different. She already exhibited a deference to Victor, suggesting a bond of loyalty—or perhaps something deeper—that could be exploited. Leading her to the Wall of Power, I planned to unlock the shout "Krah Diin Viing" for her. This shout, powerful yet not inherently dangerous to my plans, would solidify her trust in my guidance.

"This way, Sara," I guided her towards the ancient carvings that held the power of the Dragonborn's voice. "Here lies the knowledge you seek, the power to heal and protect. The shout you will learn today can change the tide of battle, mend wounds, and bolster your allies."

As they both absorbed the gravity of what lay before them, I carefully observed their dynamics. Sara's gaze on Victor was telling, filled with a mix of admiration and reliance. Victor, on his part, seemed protective, his stance subtly shielding as he looked over the potion I had offered.

This was the delicate dance of power and persuasion, played out in the shadowed halls of ancient knowledge. Each step, each word, was a move in this high-stakes game—a game I was determined to win, for the prize was nothing less than destiny itself.

As Sara approached the Wall, her expression one of awe and determination, I felt the ancient magics stir. The runes began to glow, a soft light that grew steadily, pulsating with the power of ages past. Her hand reached out, the Dragonborn's instinct unerringly accurate as her fingers traced the ancient words.

The air vibrated with the power unleashed, the chant of "Krah Diin Viing" filling the chamber, resonating deep within the bones of the world. Sara's eyes lit up with the realization of the power now at her command, a tool of healing and strength.

Victor watched, his expression unreadable, the vial of "The Observer" still in his hand. His decision in that moment would set the course for much that was to come, and I, Morvan, the hidden puppeteer of fates, waited with bated breath, ready to adjust the strings of destiny at a moment's notice.

AU: Hello again, This chapter is mostly the same as the last version and so I'll post it immediately and Ill post the next one as well as soon as I finish editing it. For those who are reading it for the first time, do any of you recognise where Morvan is coming from? He is an OC but btw.