Vengeance of Labrynthia || Elyon & Ea
The succinct raping of nails against the wooden desk echoes through her simple quarters. The College of Winterhold is...suitable, she supposes; though it pales in comparison to the grand libraries of Bromjunaar where she had studied as an initiate. The libraries there had spanned multiple buildings, the largest nearly a hundred feet in height. There were subjects on magical theory, mathematics and sciences the likes of which she has yet to see in this era. A hollow pain still echoes in her heart to see how far her home has fallen. But there is little to be done for it now. Alduin has fallen, the Dovahkiin has seen to that, and with him any hope of the Cult’s revival.
Ea doubts the bitterness will ever truly leave.
All is not lost, however. Recently the priestess learned that she was not the only member of the Cult to reawaken. It seems the High Priests were revived to serve the dov once again. Including Morokei.
Anger boils her blood, sparking electricity in the air around her, at the thought of the man who tried to kill her. He had been her leader and mentor. There had even been a point when she truly believed she loved him; but that was long, long ago. Now all that remains in her heart for him is the undeniable need for vengeance.
But, for all her magical prowess, she knows she will not be able to achieve her revenge alone.
For a moment she contemplates simply paying one of the local hunters to aid her, but none of them have any true sort of training. If the ruins of Bromjunaar are anything like the other old temples she has raided, then there will be more than just a few skeletons and dusty tomes waiting inside. It is unlikely any novice would survive long enough to reach Morokei.
No, she needs someone with experience dealing with the undead cult.
Ea releases a withering sigh. Though she is loathe to admit it, she knows she must call upon the Dovahkiin for aide. She has seen the woman on only a handful of occasions, whenever her wanderings brought her to the College. Ea has spoken to her even less, exchanging little more than simple pleasantries as they crossed one another in the hall. But from all that Ea has heard the woman is friendly enough, eager to help when she can.
The priestess takes a long sip of her wine before pulling free a loose bit of parchment from a stack. It does not take long for her to pen a simple request.
My name is Ea. You may not remember me, but we have met on a few scant occasions at the College of Winterhold. I am planning an excursion of the ruins of Labrynthia on rumors of a powerful magical source that may be found within the temples bowls. There are few others who have such vast experience as you, and I believe your aid could prove crucial to discovering the truth.
You will be adequately compensated, of course.
She releases it into the hands of a carrier the next morning. Now all she can do is sit and wait.
