Alik'rian Nights: Volume The First: Of Adamant And Beyond: Part 6: Beyond Infinity

Soon he found himself in an elegant garden, the likes of which can never be replicated on mortal earth. It was mathematically precise and uniform, but even in such an idyllic setting, there was an odd sort of sinisterness to the place.
There was no wind in the trees, nor smell of flowers. No birds, insects, or other creatures wandering through the fields. No movement to speak of. No sound, save for his footsteps on the grass. In some ways the perfect stillness was peaceful, though it left his senses uneasily attuned.
The place was neither cool nor warm, bright nor dark. An enchanting light, like the sun (or rather, that which hides behind the sun) shone from the top of the tower to light the area. But even in this light the sky was as black as a cloudy night.
A tall series of hedges, which he suspected was a maze, blocked his path to the foot of the Tower. He turned to the left hand and to the right in search of the entrance, but it eluded him. In the silence, his ear suddenly perked up, detecting a foreign noise. A rustling in the leaves. He was not alone.
Following the sound, he came upon a tree with a man climbing high upon its branches. He was a lean and hearty Nord; appearing to be unarmed. The Seprine spoke a greeting, but in the quiet, his whisper seemed like a shout. The unexpected sound startled the man, however he seemed glad to have a visitor.
When asked what the man was doing in the tree, he explained that he was trying to reach the tower. He had not been able to get past the bushes, therefore he was trying to get a new perspective on the situation. This was a spiritual place, and getting a new perspective on the situation required a literal new perspective.
With a chuckle of triumph, the man announced that from the tree top he could see not only the base of the tower, but also the path through the maze. He studied it for only a few brief moments before descending back to the ground.
The Seprine asked who the man was, and what he was doing in this place. The man replied with an ironic laugh; saying that it was sometimes a mystery, even to him. He was known by many different names to many different people, though most prominently by his Cyrodiilic name. The man then introduced himself as none other than Tiber Septim, emperor of all Tamriel.
He explained that he came there often seeking solace and rest. He felt drawn to the Tower and believed that it could help him in his current predicament. His legion was returning from Alinor, only to be bogged down and choked by the dense jungles of Cyrodiil. They were unable to maneuver and their supply lines were constantly collapsing. As much as they hated the environment and wading through the overgrowth, their loyalty to him spurned them ever onward. But he feared that if they were again called to action, the dense jungle would overwhelm them, and they would be unable to maintain the empire that they had forged to bring peace to Tamriel.
But now that he had discovered the path, perhaps there was some hope. He invited the Seprine to join him. Then walking up to the edge of the bushes, they reached out their hands, only to find air. A visual illusion made the shrubs appear straight and seamless, but there were gaps between some of them.
Following Tiber Septim, the two made their way through the maze. The twists and turns would have left many hopelessly lost for ages upon end, but the emperor’s memory was impeccable, and he had already seen their whole course. Soon they were deposited in the courtyard at the base of the tower.
There seemed but one entrance; an incredible door, 7 stories tall, closed and seemingly sealed. The Seprine searched for a button, or lever, or other such mode of entry, but there was nothing. Tiber contemplated the problem for a moment before asking why they didn’t simply knock. He approached the portal and struck it with three heavy blows.
As he did, a powerful voice spoke out from inside. It demanded to know who had come to the foot of the Great Tower. Tiber Septim answered first, and named himself as the holder of the amulet of kings, one who sits on the ruby throne, and Emperor of all Tamriel, called Tiber Septim, Hjalti, Talos, and Ysmir. The voice said that he didn’t know him, and to return whence he had come.
Undeterred, the Seprine knocked. Again the voice demanded the answer to his question. And so our Scarab gave his name, and said that he was called Shezarrine. The voice was silent for several moments before speaking again. It announced that if that was true, that he was bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh; the Seprine could enter.
There was a shuffling sound from within and the voice asked if the other was his companion. He answered that they were indeed together, and moreover, Tiber Septim was also Shezarrine. The voice said with surprise that they were therefore both welcome. At last the mighty door parted a crack, just large enough for them to enter.
The voice was revealed to be a man of enormous proportions. He had a mighty form and his strength and physical prowess were clear. He was well aged, but not infirm, though the weariness of the years weighed heavily upon him.
The Seprine asked if the identity of the doorkeeper was as he suspected. The man sighed in indignation that he had chosen no name for himself. But that others had called him Sep, Shor, Shezarr, and Lorkhan. He greeted the two incarnations of himself warmly, and asked what news of the task he had sent them on, but neither the Seprine nor Tiber Septim knew of which he spoke. Lorkhan was brokenhearted that they did not remember, and sat down to explain.
In the beginning, when Anu and Padomay first mixed, the blending created another force named Mnemoli, who is the Aurbis. It was through her that the other gods were formed, and in her delight at their birth, she thought upon a new thought. In their splendor, the gods were to create within her realms for them to inhabit and magnify their collective glory. They called this place Aetherius.
Many of her children joined together in singular endeavor and created the worlds within her bosom called Mundus, these becoming known as Aedra. The remaining, who refrained from Mundus, becoming known as Daedra, separated from each other to built their own plains. These worlds became a dark parody of Mundus and were known as Oblivion. Lorkhan himself was never satisfied to stay in one place for any length of time, and walked freely between Mundus and Oblivion, seeing all there was to see.
Over time, the Daedra grew jealous of Mundus and its splendor. A new voice appeared and the Daedra made him their king. This darkness had no name, and hated being given one, more so even than Lorkhan. He was the first Snake, the hunger of Akel, Sharmat. So to spite him, Lorkhan gave him the name Nihilangelo, for he was the Angel of Nothingness, the Void Ghost.
Nihilangelo hated Mnemoli and everything she created. He pitted the Daedra of Oblivion against Mnemoli and the Aedra of Mundus. The war of manifest metaphors erupted, and for an uncountable span of time their fury raged. Mnemoli and her Aedra were equally matched with Nihilangelo and his Daedra, neither side making much progress, save for suffering and despair.
Eventually the Daedric King came to Mnemoli with a wicked plan. He told her that he had seen the outside of the universe and had found something there which would bring them peace. Mnemoli accepted the invitation, for she did not hate Nihilangelo as he hated her. But she was wise and not without foresight. She brought Lorkhan with her to the meeting as her escort and witness.
When they arrived, Nihilangelo showed Mnemoli the Great Tower of existence and the great light which peered down upon them from on high. She looked upon it without suspicion, and once she did, the subject/object distinction between herself and the world collapsed. You see, the Tower is itself an expression of her, and the light is the infinite omnipoint and source of all being; the godhead. It was impossible for her to retain the firm boundaries of her personal essence against such infinities, and she became lost.
As she did, she was cut off from her creation. She was removed from its tapestry and all of her works were forgotten. The Aedra could no longer remember that she had ever birthed them and that it was within her that they had formed Mundus. Without Mnemoli to be the foundation of the world, it began to crumble.
This had been the Daedric King’s plan all along. Lorkhan had been too late to stop Mnemoli from losing herself, but it was not too late to save her. He battled with Nihilangelo, but the darkness took Mnemoli high into the tower and prevented him from rescuing her.
Lorkhan did not have the strength to best his foe, nor did his enemy have the strength to defeat him. He knew that the only way to end the battle was with his brother Akatosh. The one path to victory was if they fought together; generating the exact and unassailable point (or footing) needed to stand against the darkness.
Nihilangelo had tricked them into coming, but Lorkhan was clever as well. Looking toward the light at the pinnacle of the Tower, he drew Nihilangelo’s attention towards its glory. The darkness became enthralled with the light and was overcome by it. His lack of love was his undoing, and the Daedric King was also severed from the world and forgotten. Then using the distraction, Lorkhan fled downward to the foot of the Tower.
He knew that he could not leave the evil king with Mnemoli, or she would fade away and all would be lost. So he left his soul behind in the Tower to face Nihilangelo and act as a guardian. His body he sent back to the Aurbis to retrieve his brother.
That was the task that the Seprine was returning from. Again Lorkhan asked what had happened. Tiber Septim’s eyes grew wide, for he finally understood. He realized that by the time Lorkhan’s body had returned, the damage had already been done. The weight of the world had already taken most of the Aedra, destroying nearly everything.
They had forgotten all about Mnemoli and Nihilangelo. All they could remember was that Lorkhan had been involved with creating the world and yet had not suffered from its fall. They reasoned that Lorkhan had tricked them into crafting Mundus in order to destroy them and that he had departed so that he might be spared from the great tragedy.
Instead of returning with Lorkhan to rescue Mnemoli, Akatosh and the Convention condemned Lorkhan, ordering his punishment. They stole his heart from him while they cut his corpse in two to make the moons. Tiber Septim wept, for the task which they had been sent on was failed. Nihilangelo had achieved victory.
But the Seprine interrupted; saying that through the course of time, many incarnations had arisen to finish this work, and now it was done. He explained that here at the fullness of time, the Aedra had turned from their condemnation and had given the Seprine their blessing. He now bore the Heart of Akatosh, and his spirit breathed fire within him.
Lorkhan sighed deeply. He had not thought his brother so generous. Perhaps there was indeed hope to defeat Nihilangelo. He explained that the Enemy waited for them further up the Tower, and that under no circumstances should they peer at the great light upon the height, for it was the godhead, the Dreamer of the dream in which we live. It is an infinity of infinities and will enthrall any who gazed upon its glory; for one cannot see even a part of it without beholding the whole and becoming filled by it. Since the finite cannot comprehend the infinite, it overwrites 1’s very definition by its perception and therefore 1 is made into naught.
Nihilangelo had had much time to prepare for their coming and had laid traps to disarm, dissuade, and destroy them. On the path, they would meet three spirits of deprivation which were aspects of the Daedric King. The Seprine would need to defeat each one before he could meet Nihilangelo and save Mnemoli.
In alarm, the Seprine asked if the elder god was not coming with them, for surely they would need his power and might. Lorkhan shook his mane and said that he must remain to guard the door. Then he raised his hands and touched their cheeks with his immense fingers. He told them that he would be with them always; he was them.

Thusly prepared, the Seprine and Tiber Septim began to ascend the tower. The stairs were many and circled the perimeter wall. As they climbed each floor, somehow the ceiling of each was open to the sky, lit by the great light at the tower’s height, though the floor itself was solid and opaque.
He came to the first level, entering a room with a door and a small child. At the top of the room was a balcony upon which stood a dark figure, like a hole in reality. He could only see the outline of the figure, for it was impossibly black and dripped its darkness like heavy mist. This was the first of the spirits.
The figure explained that the door to the next chamber led to the child’s mother, and was locked with the key of innocence. He had given the child a sword and told him that if he allowed the Seprine to go through the door, that the aspect would kill his mother. But if our Scarab killed the child so that he might pass, then the door would be forever locked.
So the first trap was laid. The Seprine questioned the child and confirmed what the aspect had said. The child was scared and did not wish to fight him, but his innocent love of his mother demanded that he would if he had to. He desperately wished to go in the other room, but if he abandoned his post then he could not protect her. The guilt and shame kept him from going through.
The aspect from above laughed and said that like their greater quest, no solution was possible. Submit to the inevitable and rest peacefully in the world soon to be unmade.
Ignoring the darkness, the Seprine encouraged the child and said that if he would allow him to pass, that he would take on the protection of his mother personally. That way, he did not have to feel guilty for abandoning his post, because he had already found a way to protect her.
Relieved, the child agreed, and they all went through the door. The aspect thusly enraged jumped down from the balcony. He ran up to slaughter them mercilessly, but as he approached the doorway, he bounced off the threshold instead. From the ground, the shadow looked up in confusion at the crowd standing on the other side.
Tiber Septim laughed at the shade and explained that in trying to destroy their innocence, he had made himself guilty and sprung his own trap. In horror at his own failure, the aspect vanished. Then with a shout of delight, the child ran to embrace his mother. As they wept, the woman looked up at the Seprine in thanks, and they both returned whence they had been taken.
As Tiber Septim and our Scarab progressed to the next level, Tiber asked how he had come to such an elegant solution to the puzzle. The Seprine answered that he had considered the situation from the perspective of the child. Frightened, alone, with a mighty task before him. It was not so long ago when he was faced with similar feelings. When Akatosh gave him the command to stop the Thalmor plot, he could see no way for him to accomplish it, for his heart had been ravished. Akatosh took upon himself the mantle of his heart and assumed its place in his life. It gave him the courage to face what was to come. He reasoned that if he could similarly take the child’s place, then perhaps a solution could be found, and it was.

Tiber marveled at his wisdom until they came to the next chamber and the second trial. Inside they found a brightly lit room with another aspect standing next to an empty pedestal. The Aspect told them that in order to proceed, they would need to collect a totem which had been stolen from him. The totem was through a dense maze infested with the horrors of want.
Unsure of the aspects true intentions, they proceeded cautiously through the labyrinth. As he had said, they found much danger at every turn. Great pits opened beneath their feet to trap them, rich treasures hid virulent poisons to tempt them, and vile creatures roamed the halls to taunt them.
Finally they found a chamber at the end of the maze. Inside lay the totem upon a stand, guarded by two sinister looking figures. Presumably, these were the thieves, armed and ready for them. The room was dark and gloomy, lit only by the totem resting on its perch. The Emperor and Seprine entered the room and the fight began. It was a brutal battle indeed, but they defeated them and cast them down upon the floor. They took the totem quickly before they could recover and returned back into the maze.
To their shock, the maze had shifted. The twists and turns were not as they were before and led to new surprises. Trudging carefully again through the corridors and passages, soon they found themselves back in the aspect’s luminous chamber. For a reason they couldn’t yet fathom, the evil shade demanded they first replace the totem back upon the pedestal before coming to him for the key to the upper floors.
They did as he requested, still waiting to catch whatever trap was waiting for them before it struck. To their astonishment when they replaced the totem, nothing happened. Perplexed, they went again to the aspect to see if he would honor his word. The aspect promised that he would keep their agreement indeed, but first there was a problem. It seemed that the thieves had returned.
Our Scarab and Tiber turned to indeed see the two sinister figures coming out of the maze. This second conflict was even more dire than the first, and despite their best efforts, it was their turn to suffer defeat. As they looked up from their beating on the ground, the two thieves grabbed the totem and vanished back whence they came.
The aspect chuckled to himself at seeing the two exhausted men getting themselves up off the floor. “It is a pity,” the darkness preened, “I cannot allow you to pass without the totem there upon its pedestal.” Tiber Septim and the Seprine glowered and grumbled at one another as they went once more into the labyrinth. Again the maze had shifted as they wandered through its meandering halls.
But at last they found the thieves dark lair once more. The two warriors paused a moment before going in to ready themselves; defeat was not an option. Fully prepared and in unison they charged into the chamber, catching the plunderers off guard. The battle was quick, and again the thieves lay beaten.
Hurriedly, they grabbed the totem and left. The pitfalls and monsters within the maze were becoming stale as they made their fourth passage. After a time they found their way back into the light and again placed the totem upon the pedestal. They went to speak with the aspect, but were not fast enough, for the thieves emerged yet again to combat them.
They suspected the thieves would make another attempt at the totem and they were not caught off guard as before. Despite their readiness however, it seems the thieves were readier still, and once again the emperor and our scarab were made low.
The totem was stolen once more, and the Seprine turned to the black aspect in anger, demanding to know the meaning of all this. The darkness chuckled in wicked pleasure. He said that theirs was a fruitless endeavor. Try to claim what you seek, and inevitably you lose it. Oh! To be caught in the paradox! How sad it was for him to watch them stagger over one’s own feet like so. Steal the totem, and have it stolen back, like a mouse allergic to cheese. Progress can never be made against such forces. There must always be balance. You cannot fight a zero.
These words incensed The Seprine, but the Emperor kept a cooler head. Tiber Septim thought for several moments before erupting into laughter. Our Scarab queried as to the reason for this. Tiber told him that he had a plan, and bid him to follow. The Emperor made his way over to the pedestal and made a small mark on its stone. He asked the Seprine if he could see the mark, which he could of course. Before he could ask any further however, Tiber grinned and walked off.
Casually, he went up to the aspect, overflowing with charm. He assured the spirit that they would comply with his request to have the totem sitting back upon the pedestal, but asked if he might be so bold, that the aspect would also comply with a minor request on their part. The darkness found this amusing but said that there was nothing he could do to help them.
Tiber again reassured him that his assistance would not be required, if only he would come with them when they went to recapture the totem. He said that the darkness would need to do nothing else, rather, the warriors would be his escort on the journey and would ensure that he was neither bothered nor placed in any sort of danger.
The aspect thought for a moment. He knew that he would in no way assist them, and it would amuse him indeed to see the two secure his own safe passage. With a little more coaxing, the darkness relented; he would follow them.
Our Scarab was deeply confused, but the Emperor would not explain, other than to instruct him to play nice. Briskly Tiber led them back through the maze. The going was slow, for they had to clear every avenue completely before the aspect would come any further, but eventually they reached their destination.
To our Scarab’s surprise, and the darkness’s shock even more so, the thieves were nowhere to be found. Tiber calmly walked up to the stand upon which sat the venerated totem and leaned smugly against its side. The Seprine eyed the dark corners of the room, waiting to see some sign of the bandits, but nothing ever came.
“Well?” Questioned the aspect “Aren’t you going to take the totem?”
“But of course not!” Tiber exclaimed. “Whatever would I do that for? You wanted it sitting upon your pedestal, and here it is.” The darkness was uncomfortable, and it was his turn to ask for the meaning of this. The Seprine too was interested in the answer.
“Don’t you see my friend,” Tiber told him “WE are the thieves. Time does not move here in the same way as it does in our world. The totem has been where it was supposed to be all along, but we kept taking it. Look!” Tiber cast a brilliant spell of light in the dark foreboding room. Surely enough, it was the chamber from which they had just come. “Do you not see the mark I made before we left?”
The Seprine looked and indeed the same mark was there upon the stone. “I believe that you owe us passage.” Tiber Septim said to the aspect.
“No. I won’t let you go. Not until you have fulfilled my demand!” The darkness countered, but the Emperor grew angry.
“Do not think that you can fool me without my permission, shade! Is this not the same pedestal as before?” he demanded, but the darkness did not reply. “Give us our due, void!”
“I won’t!”
“You Will! You cannot lie in this place where words and meaning are manifest. You gave your oath that if we were able to keep the totem upon its stand that you would allow our passage! By your own voice you are compelled!”
The aspect screamed in rage and indignation, vanishing abruptly from the room. Against the wall a portal swung open. The Seprine turned to look at the Emperor in astonishment. Appearing quite calm and collected, Tiber casually asked if they were ready to continue. Both men burst into laughter and made their way through the door.
With two aspects and their tricks defeated, there remained only one barrier before the final battle with Nihilangelo. Their success thus far had them feeling confident, but still some fear remained. Surely the great Anti-Phonos would not be so easily triumphed over. Lorkhan had spent nearly an eternity here trying to stop him and had failed. These past trials had been clever, but were they really meant to stop them, or simply prepare them as fattened calves for the slaughter?

They arrived on the third level to find the aspect standing before a set of two doors. Tiber Septim asked the darkness what he had in store for them now. His hostility did not disturb the shade, who explained that the rooms that lay beyond the doors had been specifically crafted for each of them. The Emperor was to take the left door, the Seprine to take the right. There would be no collaboration between them this time.
The men looked at one another cautiously. They had come this far together and had come to rely on each other. They were now brothers-in-arms. To separate them was truly a devilish act, but there seemed little recourse. They would have to face this next trial alone. Steadying themselves against whatever was to come, they passed through the doors, each to his own chamber.
Our Scarab found himself in a lavish party room filled with a multitude of people. To his astonishment, he knew them. All of them! Prince Amir, princess Rashiqa, suzerain La'Yarham, High Mage Maoric, even the Loremaster, Vivec, and many others; everyone whom he had met in his travels. But his surprise and delight quickly turned to fear. It was everyone who had betrayed or abandoned him. Were these friends, or foes?
The dark aspect came up beside him and explained the trial. Somewhere, someone in this room held the key to the final level. Their memories had been muddled, and they would likely not remember our Scarab, so he was safe for the moment, but it also meant that they were themselves unsure who kept the key. He would need to speak to each of them in order to find it.
The Seprine asked what trick was hidden beneath these familiar faces, but the shade only laughed. “No trick, only friends.” the darkness said maliciously before vanishing from the room.
Our Scarab began inconspicuously questioning the party goers. Indeed, their minds had been clouded, and they could remember little, but each was able to give a clue to the puzzle. He could only speak with them briefly, for the longer he engaged them, the more agitated they became. Slowly he began to realize that it was because they were starting to remember him and the reasons they had turned against him. Even the Loremaster seemed upset that our Scarab had failed to save him from the Dwemer arrow.
Try as he might, the puzzle was convoluted and confusing to the highest degree. The more hints he gathered, the angrier the mob became. Before long, many grew scornful and hostility brewed in the others. The situation was quickly becoming unmanageable, but still he lacked the information he needed to find the key’s location.
By the time he realized that there was likely no real solution to the puzzle, it was already too late. The crowd remembered him and the lies which had made him seem their enemy. Even as he tried to console them, anger rose in his own chest. It was they which had turned against him, not he against their number.
Several took weapons into their hands and approached him seriously. He was preparing to defend himself when he realized that this was the trap. The more he spoke, pressed them for answers, or justified his case, the more violent the group became. This shocking realization came with a tidal wave of despair. But even as he contemplated retiring in shame from the mob, and by extension, the dark aspect, he came to a new understanding.
The crowd stood around him enraged and ready to attack when they saw the change in his countenance. He spoke unto them, saying “friends, alas I admit my fault. You had thought me a traitor, and had betrayed me in kind. I was angry, for my actions had only been for your benefit, but I see now that your actions had also been for mine. I came to this place to defeat the great evil which threatens you all, but if it had not been for your betrayals, I would never had made it thus far.
“If you must destroy me, then do so, as you had done before. For even as you slay me, yet will I trust that salvation will come. And even if you turn against me again and thrice more, I will go through these pains and sorrows an infinity of times, if that is what needs happen. For it is you whom I love, and I am your servant.” he said as he knelt down on the floor and bared his neck to them. He closed his eyes and waited for the coming blows, but they never came. He looked up to see the eyes of the crowd softened before him, and the grip upon their weapons was loose.
Sensing the turning of the mood, the dark aspect reappeared. It spoke to the assembly and tried to entice them against our Scarab. It reminded them of the lies that they had been told and twisted the Seprine’s words into profane things. But our Scarab remained silent, and cast not a single stone.
The dark figure grew in vigor and in the vileness of his words. Soon the anger of the mob again began to boil, but this time its rage grew against the aspect. Our Scarab watched in stillness as the crowd turned against the shade and poured out its rage against him. The shadow met anger with anger and deepened the wrath of the multitude four fold. The throng quickly overcame the darkness even as it screamed against them.
With the aspect now vanquished, the light and power went out from the room. The crowd vanished before him and along the far wall, the exit swung open. Our Scarab stared at the empty chamber and at the waiting door, but in contrast to the previous trials, he felt no thrill of triumph.
He had poured out his soul and readied himself for an end which had never come. Now that he had tasted the bitter herb of humility, there was no room left in him for the sweet fruits of victory. With tears in his eyes, he gathered himself up and proceeded through the final portal.

On the other side, he found Tiber Septim waiting for him. There was a heaviness about him which said that his trial had indeed also been trying. Our Scarab asked what he had faced in the other room, and the Emperor said that he had found himself back in the jungles of Cyrodill. His legion had been taken by the trees, and they were bound fastly in the vines. They were struggling against their restraints and begged for him to help.
He quickly went to cut them free, but the vines gripped them only tighter as he fought. The more he struggled, the harder his task became. He could see the lips and faces of his friends turn blue as the vegetation squeezed the life from them.
The place was hot and had been growing hotter from his activity. As the ropes and bindings grew stronger, he realized then that it was the heat that gave the vines their power. He knew the answer then, but he did not like it. If he was wrong, Oh, if he was wrong!
Regardless, he knew what he must do. He calmed himself and told his legion to rest, surrendering to whatever was to come. The vines were still growing, but the place was still hot from their action. He sat down and shut his eyes, relaxing all his muscles and letting the heat leave him. It grew quiet, but he did not know if it was quiet because of their rest, or quiet because of their death.
When his heart returned to its slowest pace and his sweat grew cold against his skin, he inhaled deeply, for he was born of the north, and his breath was as long winter. He breathed out the coolness of his breath and when he opened his eyes, both the trees and his legion were gone, the door standing open before him. He did not know what became of his men, whither or not he had saved them, but now assuredly, he missed them deeply.
Tiber Septim had only left that evil chamber a few moments before our Scarab had also left his room, but he was tired of this place now and wished to continue on. The ultimate enemy now lay directly before them, and they were both ready to see his downfall.