Elder Scrolls Dremora Novels & Stories

The Helm of Awe covered my left shoulder and on my right was Valknut. Yggdrasil was in the middle and flowing from the roots of the tree was a wolf head. On either side of the wolf was a Jericho 9mm, Kiran’s personal touch to my Zeta mark. From the bottom of the roots, down my spine, was a ghost rune designed by Malachi with my name Jericho adorning the top of Yggdrasil. An hour and a half later Marcus was finished and I put my shirt back on. Tonight I would have to undress with every member of the pack present and shift for the first time in my life.

“What happened Ellora?” Ellora took a while before she sighed, carrying on. “Dormut was home to some of the rarest materials throughout the dimensions. While he wasn’t there, his followers carried on with his quest. One of them happened to slip up, and that’s when we found out that he was mining our lands of the minerals. Upon hearing that we’d captured his followers, he made his return, bringing with him magic we’d never before seen. He’d somehow found out about merging that magic with the minerals from our land, but something must’ve gone wrong with his spells because before we knew it, he’d caused a world ending event. With our world collapsing in on itself, I had to think quickly, which

September 12, 2005 – 09:50 (Winnipeg Time) “Emery! Blue Thunder! Don’t stay there, come in!” said Ellya, appearing in front of them. “For a minute, we weren't sure if we were at the right place!” said Coralis. “Don’t get fooled by what you see, Yalor has been experimenting all night with wards and glamours.” “That certainly explains the smell of elven herbs,” said Eva.

The truth burns: the Herald is Elara’s kin, corrupted by betrayal, seeking to unmake her legacy. Kalia’s orb sparks, her aura flaring, her eyes distant, a vision seizing her. “Aelys!” she gasps, “the Herald—it’s gathering relics on a rift-torn world, unraveling the Veil!” Her relic pulses, the Herald’s hymn echoing: “Lumora falls, child—your cosmos is mine.” The archive trembles, void-wraiths breaching the dome, their claws slashing. I shield Kalia, my blade striking a wraith, my hymn faltering, my mortal heart straining. The relic’s hymn surges, its starlight wounding me, pain erupting, Lena’s spark flickering. “Aelys!” Kalia cries, her orb flaring, her hymn unsteady but fierce, felling a w

It pushed the shadows back for a moment. Then the big shadow, Malakor moved really fast. It was like it just appeared out of nowhere. Damon tried to fight it but it was like fighting a cloud. Malakor wrapped its arms around Damon's neck. Elara was really scared. She screamed, "Damon!" She tried to use her power. It was not working. She looked at her gauntlet, it was just a dead metal. Then she remembered something. She remembered the scrolls in the Citadel. They talked about the "Dual Eclipse." It was not about the sun and moon being in the same place. It was about becoming equal to the Void and not just fighting it.

Other breeds filled in: >The Morvath breed: broad-shouldered and iron-eyed, wrestled one another in displays of strength, tearing stone pillars from the ground and hurling them like spears. >The Velmari, pale and lean, drifted through the crowds. Their bites left no scars but sickness—small, deliberate kisses of plague that they gifted as souvenirs to mortal thralls who begged for the honor. >The Draemiri, ash-skinned and crowned with bone horns, they were known for binding mortals into dream-trances that lasted weeks. >The Zeryth, whose mouths split too wide and whose laughter bled into sobbing, the cruelest tricksters among the clans.

His presence was scorching - like standing too close to the sun. The others sat in the peripheral shadows: Asmodan Veythar, the Demon Minister, draped in velvet with a smile that never reached his eyes. Tharion Embervault, the Dragon Treasurer, his scaled form glinting crimson-gold. Lady Elaris Thornveil, the Fae Emissary, beautiful and merciless. Morthos Gravemind, the Necromancer Overseer, skeletal fingers resting on bone-white arms. Aeris Stormrend, the Elemental Warden, whose form flickered between solid and storm. And finally, Nymera of the Veil, the Oracle of Time, her eyes clouded with constellations.

She touched his forehead, and the silver lines on his skin faded, his eyes returning to a normal, tear-filled blue. “He is a Remnant,” Elara said, turning to Ellie and Roman. “A scrap of soul caught in the wake of the Magister’s fall. But he is a warning. The void didn't close when the sky did. It just found a new way to breathe.” “What do you mean?” Roman asked, pushing himself to his feet and immediately moving to Ellie’s side, his eyes scanning her for injury.