#cat queued

She woke suddenly and sat ramrod straight, the shadow of something she couldn’t quite remember lurking at the edge of her mind. The cave (her cave now, she supposed) was pitch black, but her eyes were used to that and adjusted quickly. The sticky feeling covering most of her, however, - including, it seemed, her hair, which was awkwardly stiff in places - was new. 

Aralyn looked down at the cold, stiff things next to her and remembered. She was covered in her parents’ blood. 

But even that, as uncomfortable as sleeping next to two corpses while their blood dried on her was, wasn’t what had woken her. No, she thought as her eyes narrowed, what had woken her was the person creeping toward her that thought themselves unnoticed. Aralyn moved at the same time the hooded figure did, the scalpel that she’d used a few hours ago forgotten in favor of her bare hands. 

They collided harshly, all bony elbows and jagged angles, and if she was a more empathetic person she might have wondered if the primal fear she felt now resembled what her parents experienced as she covered their mouths and slit their throats while they slept. Instead, Aralyn thought about nothing other than killing this intruder before she could be killed. 

He had entangled her hands in his, so she tried to use her teeth to rip out his throat. He pulled his head to the side at the last second, and she bit into his shoulder instead. The slightly metallic taste of blood seeped into her mouth as the stranger cursed and pushed against her with renewed vigor, and Aralyn found herself increasingly concerned about the fact that he seemed to be both stronger and a better fighter than she was. 

This wasn’t like her murders earlier, where she’d relied on some degree of trust and the cover of night to make her kills. This was a full-fledged fight where she faced every disadvantage, and the fact that she found herself pinned, arms to the ground and mouth covered, a moment later, presumably to have her own throat slit, truly drove that home.

There was probably some degree of poetry in the fact that the daughter who had just killed her parents was about to be killed herself. 

Instead, the strange man met her gaze with the darkest set of eyes she’d ever seen in a person and spoke, slowly and clearly like he would have a particularly stupid child. “I am not here to hurt you, but I will gladly kill you if you don’t stop struggling.” Aralyn had been in the process of trying to weasel out from where he had her pinned at the elbow and maybe biting his hand while she was at it, but he punctuated his statement by adjusting his grip and further securing his hold on her. 

Her eyes narrowed, but she stopped fidgeting. Her mysterious hooded stranger raised an eyebrow before sighing somewhat dramatically. “I’ll take that as assent, dark child.” 

...What an odd thing to call someone. It wasn’t too different from the kinds of endearments that her parents had enjoyed, but the screams and fear in the eyes of their victims had always told her that her parents weren’t exactly “normal”. That said, the odds were that no one breaking into the cave of a pair of necromancers and creeping up on their murderous daughter in the middle of the night was “normal”, either. Of course, all her standards of said normality were based on books and letters she or her sister had managed to filch from their parents or the strangled last words of dying men and mer, so who could say if they were accurate? 

But her idle thoughts didn’t matter here. What mattered was the solid weight of the person above her, and the knowledge that she was completely at his mercy if he chose to strike. So Aralyn listened - not that she was in a position to do much else. “This is far from an ideal situation for introductions, but they must be made nonetheless. I am Lucien Lachance, and I speak now for the Night Mother, to tell you that she is pleased. She has observed how you kill, admired your ruthlessness, and is most delighted, thus I am now before you.” A rather gentle way of saying “literally on top of you”, but the man seemed fond of his pretty words. “I have been sent to offer you an opportunity to join our… unique family.”

Her brow furrowed briefly with confusion as she tried to recall if she had ever heard of this “Night Mother” before. But Lucien must have recognized the blank look in her eyes because he chuckled. The sound sent a shiver down her spine. “Never heard of the Dark Brotherhood before, child? No matter. All you must know is this: on the Green Road north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. He is no challenge - old and frail, he spends his days sleeping. Kill him.”

Well, that got her attention. Interesting. She was no stranger to death, of course, but to have it requested of her? Maybe the world outside would be intriguing, after all. 

“If you do this, the next time you rest, I will return to you and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. I’ve even brought you a tool to complete the task.” Before Aralyn could comprehend what was going on, a blade was pressed underneath her chin, tilting her head back uncomfortably. “Much better than that rusted scalpel, isn’t it?” He smiled, and again she felt that instinctive shiver of fear at the base of her spine.  “I hope to see you again soon, child,” Lucien said, and then he was gone. 

Aralyn picked up the dagger that he had dropped and examined it carefully. It was a nice blade… and she did need somewhere to go… so, with her mind made up, she began to plan. 

-

It was the night before they were to head to the Imperial City and see Martin crowned when she had the dream. It was... odd, to say the least, for someone who rarely dreamed to have one that was so very vivid, but even more odd was the content.

When she looked down, Adelaide realized she was not on Nirn anymore - instead, she was in some glowing plane of reality that seemed to have no beginning and no end. The strangest part, however, was the flaming dragon before her, and it got stranger still when the dragon began to speak.

“Adelaide Darrell, the one they call the Hero of Kvatch, know me for who I am.” The fiery creature spoke with a voice that she thought could move mountains or dig canyons. She wasn’t sure if the visceral feeling it left in her gut was terror or awe. “I am Akatosh, and I require your obedience.” That would explain the booming voice and the dragon and the glowing realm. Best to hear him out, then - not that she seemed to have much of a choice. “You are too late. As we speak, the armies of Mehrunes Dagon march on the Imperial City. He will arrive in Tamriel before you can light the Dragonfires, and you cannot fight him as you are.”

This whole thing had gone very quickly from a really interesting dream to a concerningly realistic nightmare. Adelaide tried not to let the fact that she was speaking to one of her gods intimidate her too much. “What should I do?”

The dragon let out a puff of air that could have been exasperation or amusement. She wasn’t sure which option concerned her more. “There is a portal in the middle of the Niben Bay. You must enter it and become something more than yourself. Only a god can defeat another god.”

It seemed that the stereotype of divine beings being infuriatingly cryptic was correct after all. “What about Tamriel? What will become of it while I’m gone?”

Akatosh eyed her, and again Adelaide failed to discern whether it was with approval or distaste. “Time in Oblivion passes differently than it does in Mundus. No Nirn time will pass while you are gone. But you must be swift. Obey me, or Tamriel will fall.” Before she could say anything else - before she could think anything else - he was gone.

For an instant, everything went black and she had the oddest sensation of free-falling through space before she woke with a jolt. She had taken to sleeping on the floor of Martin’s quarters when she was at the temple, but they were as dark as they had been when she went to sleep.

Adelaide breathed heavily for a moment as she tried to think what to do - that had been too clear a dream to ignore outright - when Martin also awoke with a muffled noise.

She was on her feet and at his side in an instant, but the look he gave her as he sat up did little to calm her nerves. “You’ll never believe the dream I had,” he said lightly, but his voice was stiff and she knew he was more troubled than his words implied.

Adelaide met his eyes, and with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, knew with frightening certainty what his dream had been like. “He came to you too, then,” she whispered. “It was no dream.”

Martin took one of her hands in his and gripped it tightly, and for a moment they stood there in silence before he spoke. “He did. We should go.” But he didn’t move to stand or leave.

Adelaide squeezed back before gently (oh so gently, she could never risk hurting him) pulling hers away and picking her cuirass up off of the floor. “It will be all right. I do not know what this journey shall bring, but we will have one another. But we cannot wait. The situation is dire.”

Martin sighed softly as he stood. “I don’t think we will be together, but you’re correct. We cannot tarry.”

He padded over to his wardrobe as she froze in between straps of her gauntlets. “What do you mean? You aren’t coming to the Niben Bay?”

Martin removed his plain grey priest robe as he shook his head. “I am heading to the Imperial Reserve, north of Skingrad.” His voice was tight, but she wasn’t sure why. Certainly the situation was stressful and sudden and far from ideal, but she got the feeling that there was a memory bothering him.

“Are you all right?” she asked suddenly, pulling up one of her sabatons. But Martin shook his head again as he began to dress and she turned her eyes away.

“I am fine, but it is no matter. You are correct. We cannot delay. We must obey Akatosh.” He was lying and she could tell, but Adelaide didn’t press the issue. As with everything else, Martin would tell her when he felt ready.

They finished their preparations in silence before heading toward the stables. Jauffre was sitting alone in the great hall, and started when he saw them. “Where are you going? We aren’t leaving until the morning.”

Adelaide hesitated, unsure of what to say, but Martin answered for them. “We have been given a task we must complete. We will meet you in the Imperial City tomorrow.” She could tell that Jauffre was distinctly displeased with the idea, but Martin’s tone brokered no argument. The grandmaster tried anyway.

“It isn’t safe, sire. Please at least take an escort if you must leave.”

But Martin shook his head. “We must leave immediately, and we must go alone. Please, my friend, we can waste time no longer.”

Adelaide could pinpoint the exact moment at which Jauffre relented. His eyes dropped and his shoulders sagged as he heaved a deep sigh. “Very well. Do what you must. We will be waiting for you. Gods-speed, sire.”

Martin took the older man’s hands in his and smiled gently. “Thank you, Jauffre.”

Adelaide tried not to think too hard about what would happen if they didn’t succeed - that was irrelevant, now. They would win, or they would die, and so would everyone else.

She and Martin saddled and mounted their horses quietly. Any attempts at small-talk died quickly - they had become very close over the last few weeks, but the situation was too serious for them to distract themselves with idle conversation. Their ride, too, was quiet and tense as they listened for bandits or cultists or worse. But as tense as it was, the end was more difficult still.

Adelaide clasped Martin’s arm gently as he turned his horse toward the hills. “Be safe.” She hesitated a moment before continuing. “I do not know what Akatosh asked of you or why it torments you so, but you can overcome this.” She swallowed heavily and didn’t meet his eyes. “I will see you soon.”

But before she could turn away, Martin pulled her into an awkwardly positioned almost-embrace. “Thank you, Adelaide. For everything. Stay safe, and we will meet again soon.” Despite her discomfort, she held him until he pulled away.

“Until then, Martin.” And despite every instinct she had screaming at her to ride with him, to help him, to protect her emperor from the dangers that were assuredly ahead, she turned her horse down the road and continued to ride.

Thankfully, it was only another two hours’ ride to the bay, and the time passed uneventfully. (Akatosh’s protection? Perhaps.)

As Adelaide approached the gates to Bravil, she could make out a distant, shining object in the center of the bay. Whatever Akatosh had been telling her of, no doubt. With a slight sigh, she dismounted and loosely looped Antinea’s reins around a tree next to the stables. “I’ll return soon,” she told the horse. “If there’s danger, run.”

With that, she waded into the bay, intensely grateful that she was a strong swimmer. The glowing object in the center of the bay was far, but not unreachable, and became clearer the closer she got. As she approached, Adelaide realized it was actually an island with a portal in the center.

Her blood chilled when she heard the voice commanding her to enter - Akatosh had sent her to a Daedra. (Martin too, most likely - an even more concerning thought.) But she was nothing if not loyal, and after a moment to steel herself, she stepped into the door.

Later, Adelaide would swear she had spent weeks inside the glowing door. But to any outside observers, she had only just entered the portal when Sheogorath emerged, tilted her head slightly, and laughed.

A moment later, she shook her head as if to clear it and stood up straight, looking completely changed from a few seconds before. A staff topped with a rolling eyeball appeared in her hand for a moment before it disappeared again as she turned her gaze toward the Imperial City.

A storm was rolling in.

--

When she was a young child, her mother had told her to be wary of storms, for they belonged to Sheogorath. Adelaide had been skeptical of that claim for a long time, but now that she was Sheogorath, she saw the truth in it. The growing cloud formation in the distance promised power that she couldn’t access currently, and she could only hope that it reached the Imperial City before Mehrunes Dagon appeared. 

    Pushing that thought aside, she stepped off of the small stone island that held her portal and walked back across the water to where Antinea was still tied to the tree. Her mare started when she approached, but after a few moments of tenseness calmed enough to let Adelaide untie her and mount. (She tried not to dwell on how skittish her horse seemed or the thought that this was a precursor to how everyone else would see her now. It was done, and now she could only deal with the consequences.)

    She pushed Antinea toward the city, riding hard partly to clear her mind but mostly because sacrificing her humanity would mean nothing if she was too late to stop the Mythic Dawn. It was still too early for most people to be on the roads, and for that she was thankful. This whole endeavor would be difficult enough without having to worry about the reaction she would receive from passersby. And yet, half an hour into her journey to the Imperial City, she heard hoofbeats on the stone path ahead of her, and growing louder.

    Adelaide let the Staff of Sheogorath appear in her hand once more, but didn’t slow her horse. It sounded like there was only one horse approaching, so hopefully she could just freeze the rider and continue her journey if they tried to accost her. But she let her staff disappear as soon as the other rider came into view and a smile blossomed across her face. 

    “Martin!” She hadn’t dare hoped to see him so soon after she had left the Isles, but it had still been too long. And then he had dismounted and she was leaping off of Antinea’s back and into his arms because it had been a miserable few weeks in Oblivion without him and worrying about whether or not he was all right. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” 

    “And you as well.” He clutched her more tightly to him for a moment before he brought her out to arm’s length and looked at her. Adelaide felt her cheeks warm as she tried to avert her eyes, even though she knew there was no point. The white hair and regalia gave her away either way, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t already seen her golden, slit-pupiled eyes. Martin gently brushed a thumb across her cheek, and she dared to glance at him.

The first thing she noticed now that she actually got a decent look at her friend was the horns. Then that his grey priestly robes had been replaced by red ones that were loose and cut much less… conservatively, though he still wore the Amulet of Kings. Finally, she met his eyes, and saw that his irises were now red and his sclera, like hers, were black. Sheogorath grinned almost impishly and reached a tentative hand up to his horns, but he gently gripped her wrist before she could. 

“Please don’t. They’re… sensitive,” Martin said, now averting his eyes as a blush crept up his neck. Adelaide reddened as well as she understood his implication and what she had tried to do, and then looked him over again and realized with horror who her friend had become. 

“Akatosh asked this much of you?” She asked hoarsely. “To go back into the service of Sanguine?” Martin’s grip left her wrist and he interlaced their fingers instead, squeezing, and she knew that whatever he had done to earn his mantle, it had not been easy. 

“It had to be done,” he said simply, and her heart clenched. He grinned lightly at her, but she only felt worse seeing the forced expression on his face. “It could have been worse.” 

He was right, of course. He hadn’t been asked to become Molag Bal or Boethiah or Namira, to deal in domination or betrayal or cannibalism, but she knew how much it must have hurt him to return to Sanguine. To become someone he despised. “Either way, it is already done. All that is left is to reap the consequences - preferably by rescuing Tamriel.” 

Martin squeezed her hand again, and she squeezed back as she nodded. How similar his words were to the sentiment she’d had only minutes earlier, and how true. They had done as Akatosh had asked, but it wasn’t over yet. 

Together, they mounted their steeds again and rode hard toward the Imperial City. The closer they got, the darker the skies became, and the more certain Adelaide was that Kyne was doing them a favor and sending a storm their way. 

Conversation flowed much more easily now than it had a few hours before (weeks before? Months before?), but the nearer they got to the city gates, the more serious it became. “Can we win, do you think?” Adelaide finally dared to ask as the bridge to the Talos Plaza District came into view. 

Martin laughed lowly, almost darkly. “Do we have a choice?” 

The rest of their short journey was finished in silence. The sun was beginning to peek over the hills in the east as they approached the city, and the stablemaster appeared to be awake for the day. “Hail,” Adelaide said as they approached, hoping that her eyes were doing what she wanted and appearing less… other. “My friend and I have business in the city. Could we trouble you to watch our steeds for a few hours in exchange for some gold?” 

If her eyes were still Daedric-looking, the woman didn’t seem to mind. “Of course!” Adelaide dismounted gracefully and pretended to rummage through Antinea’s saddlebags for a few moments before emerging with several Septims and handing them to the woman. (The money had actually come from the Isles. There were several things she could call on at will, mostly her own artifacts, but the royal coffers seemed to also be one of them - much to her good fortune.)

“Be good,” she told her mare, and the still somewhat skittish horse nudged her shoulder gently with her muzzle before turning to graze. Next to her, Martin’s stallion did the same as their owners turned toward the city. 

“It seems so… peaceful. None of the flaming skies and chaos that Akatosh promised us.” Adelaide hummed her agreement, for the city was indeed quiet, but there was something darker looming beneath its idyllic exterior. She couldn’t explain what it was or how she knew, but all was far from well in the Imperial City. 

“When do you think the Blades will arrive? We did promise Jauffre we would meet him, though I can hardly believe he will be pleased to see us as we are.” 

Martin laughed, but there was a hint of bitterness in it. “I told him to leave in the morning, so I expect he rallied the Blades and left as soon as we were gone. I would be shocked if he hasn’t already gone to meet the High Chancellor.” 

Adelaide’s responding laugh was genuine and unburdened, something she’d only seemed to manage as a side effect of becoming the god of madness. “We ought to go, then. Maybe we’ll get a chance to explain this to him before we have to fight a god.” She paused for a moment. “Well, fight a god again, I suppose.”

Martin looked at her with an expression that she could only describe as amused exasperation as they started to cross the bridge. “I won’t ask until later, but I’d like to hear that story.” She knew that deep down, Martin was struggling with whatever had happened in the Myriad Realms of Revelry, but he seemed much more… relaxed than he had since she had known him, and she was glad to see it. He deserved some time to be unburdened with the struggles of the entire Empire.

The closer they came to the city, the more nervous she became. How were they going to tell Jauffre what they had done? How would they break the news to Chancellor Ocato that the Emperor was now a Daedric Prince? And that was assuming they survived the battle with Dagon that Akatosh had promised them was coming. Adelaide glanced over at Martin to try and gauge if he was as nervous as she was, and started when she realized he looked the same as when they had left Cloud Ruler Temple. 

He smiled more softly at her than he had since they had both become gods, looking once more like the man she had befriended. “Surprised?” 

Adelaide nodded as her face twisted with concentration and for a moment, her purple and gold gown turned into her familiar Blades armor before the illusion was gone. “I think my shapeshifting could use some work yet.”

Martin’s smile broadened, and a moment later she looked as he did - as if they had never changed. “It’s more my realm than yours, I suppose, which is likely why it comes more easily to me. But you will improve with time, I’m certain.” 

They stepped through the gates to the Imperial City, and once more she felt the weight of an impossible task. “If we make it that long,” Adelaide said softly, and the light mood disappeared. Martin walked faster toward Green Emperor Way, and she kept pace immediately behind him. 

The entrance to the White-Gold Tower was busy with Blades, and Martin laughed with what seemed to be relief when he saw them. But before her comrades could catch sight of them, he stopped dead. “Sire?” Adelaide asked, but he was giving her a more intent look than she’d ever seen him wear, and she’d spent countless hours by his side as he poured over the Mysterium Xarxes. 

“I have to believe we will win this. But, for luck,” he began, but never finished his sentence. Instead, Martin pulled her closer and kissed her deeply, and Adelaide knew that later she would be embarrassed by the squeaking noise she made before kissing him back. 

It was over too soon and not soon enough, and they were both breathing a little heavier when they pulled away. “I apologize if that was forward,” Martin said lowly, “but I would never forgive myself if we both die and I’d never done it.” He looked conflicted, and she thought she understood. Sometimes the lines between her and Sheogorath blurred, and it was impossible to tell whose the impulse had been - and Martin probably had it worse than she, given his history with Sanguine. 

“No,” Adelaide assured him in the only way she could at the moment. “I… I would like to continue this,” she spat out with a boldness she would never have had before Sheogorath. “If we survive.” 

There was a relief written on Martin’s face that she had no time to analyze before he pulled her into an embrace, fierce but brief. “Let’s plan on that,” he said, and then the previous moments were pushed aside as they continued forward to the tower like nothing had happened. 

Baurus was one of the Blades standing guard, and was the first to notice them as they approached. “Your Imperial Majesty! It’s good to see you. The High Chancellor is waiting for you, come right in.” 

Adelaide had only ever seen the White-Gold Tower from the outside, and she marveled at the place as she followed Martin in. She knew it was Ayleid, but the construction was unlike any other Ayleid ruin she had ever seen. The hallway was lovely, but the first steps she took into the council chamber nearly took her breath away. 

The round chamber was massive, with cavernous ceilings and a large, circular table surrounded by dozens of marble chairs. The council was not in attendance, of course, given that it was still very early, but Jauffre, flanked by several other Blades, was in tense, quiet conversation with Ocato. 

He stopped and stared at them as they walked in, and it was impossible to tell if the expression on his face was relief or rage. Sheogorath’s instincts said some of each. “Good, you’re here, sire.” He turned to Adelaide then, and there could be no doubt to his expression now. “I cannot believe you would encourage this foolishness, running off. I hope whatever you did was worth it, and I will speak to you about it when we return to the Temple.”

Adelaide reddened and felt properly shamed, even though she knew she had no reason to - their quest had been necessary, not to mention ordained by Akatosh. Sheogorath wanted to strangle the man with his own intestines, and then maybe wear them as a necklace. “Of course, Grandmaster,” she said instead of acting on those urges. 

Martin took Jauffre’s admonishment… less well. Wordlessly, he dropped the glamour he’d been keeping over them, revealing their new not-quite-human features. The rest of the room went completely silent. Adelaide listened to the instinct that told her to cast her eyes down and not the one that told her to do a jig. “You have no idea what happened or why we left. Adelaide has sacrificed more than you could imagine, and certainly deserves nothing less than gratitude.”

Jauffre stiffened before he sighed and deflated. “My apologies, Sire. Adelaide. My words were only out of concern. But I think you’d best explain what’s going on.” 

Adelaide glanced at Martin, unsure where to even begin, and he gave a succinct summary of the last few hours (it was still hard to believe that a journey she felt in weeks was so brief to everyone else). “Last night, we both received a vision from Akatosh. He told us that we would be too late to stop Mehrunes Dagon, but that we could defeat him if we were also gods, and sent us each to a different Daedric Prince to mantle them. I have become Sanguine, Adelaide Sheogorath, and we will defend Tamriel from the God of Destruction.” 

There was another period of silence as everyone else in the room tried to digest Martin’s statement, but it didn’t last long. “Your Imperial Majesty! High Chancellor!” Baurus burst through the door with a shout. “There are Oblivion Gates opening throughout the city! Daedra are everywhere!” 

Ocato and Jauffre shared a look and seemed to come to the same conclusion. “Daedric Prince or not, you are still Martin Septim, and the Dragonfires must be relit,” the High Chancellor said diplomatically. 

“To battle, then,” Martin said. 

“To battle,” they all echoed. 

A current of fear rippled through the room as Adelaide and Martin left. Adelaide tried to take stock of the situation as they burst outside, but there was almost too much smoke to do so - a sign that things were very, very bad. On the bright side, it had begun to rain, so she had a chance to flex her newfound power. “Well,” she said after a moment where neither Sanguine nor Sheogorath seemed to have a course of action, “the jaws of Oblivion seem to have been rent apart. Might as well make use of the situation.” With a thought, two Daedra were by her side, one purple and the other golden. 

“My lord,” they said in unison before glaring daggers at one another. 

“Aurmazi Imal, Autkendo Asani. Take the fight to Dagon’s Daedra. Everything else is off-limits - no mortals, none of Sanguine’s own, absolutely not one another. Now go, fight this like it were a plague of Order.” She didn’t wait for them to accept her command before opening two gates of her own. (Much prettier than Dagon’s, though, the Madgod thought.) 

Swarms of Aureals poured from the purple gate, while Mazken teemed from the golden one (she liked to keep them on their toes). They would obey, she knew, even if they disliked her orders - it was against their nature to work with one another and not against, but they’d managed before for her sake and would again. 

Next to her, she saw Martin finish giving orders to some Daedra of his own before they, too, came rushing in legion out of a portal. Sanguine’s Daedra were a thousand shades of red and pink and violet - and in varying stages of undress. Finally, their armies unleashed, Sheogorath looked to Sanguine. “Where to, sire?”

For a moment, Martin appeared flustered, like there were several different responses he wanted to give, but he smiled gently and tilted his head to the south. “You know you’ve never needed to call me by a title, Adelaide.” When she only smiled with one eyebrow raised in response - teasing? -, he continued. “Anyway, we ought to continue to the Temple District and attempt to light the Dragonfires. At some point, they must be lit to protect Tamriel - not to mention that if Dagon intends to make an appearance, it will likely be there, to ensure he catches us before we enter the Temple.”

“If he intends,” Adelaide echoed as she followed Martin through the chaos toward the Temple District. “That would be rather anticlimactic, wouldn’t it? Becoming Daedra for nothing.” She had only just finished her sentence as they pushed through throngs of fighting Daedra to open the door to the Temple District when they heard a bang like a clap of thunder, loud enough to be heard over the chaos. 

She had spoken too soon, it seemed. Mehrunes Dagon had arrived.

-