The Black Door Skyrim Novels & Stories

It was time to see if that offer of his, was a genuine one, or if it was all just a bluff. Sephora entered the throne room, and walked with long graceful strides, over to the door of adamant stone. She'd finally read up, what the black mist behind the door was. It was in fact a portal - a rip in the world, that bent and fluctuated under the host's will, so it could take you to where ever you wanted within Igritann, to a point. It had been crafted by the teleporting Lord Daemon himself.

Carol asked with a shutter. “I’m going to the source of all this activity. If you want to leave and return to the lobby, you can.” Blake said with a smile. But before she could reply, there was a loud slamming of the door they had blocked from closing. Their only option now was to follow Blake and return through the elevator. They made their way to the last door with the basement written on top of it and whisps of Black aura emulated from the door’s cracks. When Blake opened it, there was no light shining from the room. It was only a black hole, not allowing any light to enter.

The black gate behind it destabilizes violently. Cracks race up its surface. Dylan’s presence floods back into mine— But altered. Deeper. Not a merger. Not two. Not one. Something layered. Something the Custodian did not model. The Arctic sky tears open. And through the collapsing gate— Hundreds of obsidian silhouettes begin stepping through.

The path wound endlessly through fog and memory. Each step Avery took sounded hollow, as though the ground beneath her were made of glass. The air grew colder, but it wasn’t the kind of cold that bit the skin — it reached through it, settling in the bones. Ahead, the mist began to thin. A faint black outline loomed in the distance, framed by pale light: the Door. It rose higher than any structure she’d ever seen — not carved or built, but grown, like the world itself had split open and decided to never heal. Black stone, slick and pulsing faintly as if alive, stood sealed by iron bands marked with the runes of death.

They walked through the ancient corridor of the castle until they reached a black iron door. No handles. No keyhole. Just a shimmering panel with numbers. The king stepped forward and pressed a sequence: 3-9-0-1-7-8. A faint beep. Then a deep click echoed through the silence. The door creaked open. Inside, the room was nearly pitch black. Yet in the center, resting on a pedestal of stone, a faint glow pulsated. The black book. Even in its sealed casing, it looked alive. Powerful. Ancient.

Though quietly, she managed to exclaim in joy when she saw the door at the top of the next staircase. The steel door was secured with nails and propped open with bricks. Rain didn't have time to ask why the door was like that. Ben immediately kicked the door open and pushed Rain in there. Ben came in and slammed the door shut again. Rain heard a clear click as the door locked behind them, then turned around. They are literally at the top of an open building. The night sky swirled above him and was sprinkled with stars like a tapestry of diamonds. The color of the sky is not black but dark blue. It is the dawn sky.

The scratching grew louder. Eliana couldn't tear her eyes away from the black door drifting across the dark water. It was unlike every other door in the Realm of Memory. The others had looked old but familiar, shaped by nostalgia and grief. Some were painted in bright colors. Some carried the warmth of childhood. Even the painful ones had felt human. This one didn't. The wood was swollen and rotten, dark as charcoal, its surface covered in deep claw marks that looked as though something had tried desperately to escape from the other side. Rust bled from the hinges. Black water dripped steadily from beneath it, vanishing into the sea below.

Every step closer to wherever they were going made it worse hotter, sharper, more insistent. Finally, they reached a door. It was massive, carved from black stone, covered in symbols that hurt to look at directly. Two wolves in half-shift stood guard, their eyes glowing in the darkness. “This is it,” Kira said softly. She squeezed Selene’s hand. “Remember…hold onto yourself. No matter what.” The doors opened.

I began, my voice clear and cold as winter wind, "take you, Silas Blackheart, as my...." The massive doors at the back of the hall exploded inward. The crash echoed through the chamber like thunder, so loud it made the candle flames flicker and dance. Stone dust rained from the ceiling as the ancient doors, each one carved from a single tree and strengthened with iron and dark magic, simply stopped existing.

In its place, fused into my very skin, was a band of black ice. And from the shadows of the trees, a voice laughed. A voice I knew all too well. "You're a **Void-Queen**, Kaima," Lyla said, stepping out from the fog. She wasn't alone. Standing beside her was the High Priest, his white eye-sockets now glowing with a brilliant, golden light. "And you just gave us exactly what we needed to open the final door." Lyla held up a mirror. In the reflection, I didn't see myself. I saw a giant, black gate with a thousand locks.