With Sanguine’s arrival to the Shivering Isles life at the palace turned into a never ending party. Of course, the Manics were already leading such a life, and they received Lord Sanguine with open arms. The Demented were turning up their noses at the Manics even more, but they had their own Daedric Prince to entertain – Vaermina arrived one night to the delight of the court of the new Duchess of Dementia spreading nightmares throughout the realm. But since most Demented already had their own nightmares, no one was the worse for wear and variety was always welcome. Lena divided her time between both courts but was impervious to Vaermina’s nightmares – everything paled before the years of facing the Wrath of Sithis in her sleep.

Sanguine was seen slipping out of the palace every now and again and spending time in Dementia among its people. As much as he liked to party, he was getting bored with the Manics, and too much felldew was giving him headaches. Bernice’s Summer Wine was a welcome change, and although he generally stayed away from skooma, he played a trick or two on the local addicts. In a word, life was anything but boring under the new Lord Sheogorath.

Lena rarely went to Mundus during this time. She only went there to visit Lucien’s fort when her heart was aching too much. She found him there sometimes, asleep and wounded, she would bandage his wounds and leave before he woke up. Other times she would find his quarters empty, then she would spend the night, and again they would never meet with both of them awake. Sometimes, when Lucien was there, she would touch him in her sleep, but he would not press, and she’d leave again without knowing he’d been there.

The loss of her form weighed heavily upon Lena. She seemed to have completely given up on herself; she trained up her body enough to avoid getting killed, but lost interest in new clothes or new skills alike. Her heart was still beating, but she was dead inside. Only Sanguine had a way of getting through to her from time to time. He simply wouldn’t give up. He loved her for what she was, not for how she looked, he made her at ease with herself, and during that time she forgot how much she hated her body, relaxed and enjoyed herself. Alas, that wouldn’t last, and after a time she would return to her brooding.

One evening she and Dylan were making camp somewhere in the Realm, having collected something for someone… They’d done such errands so many times, that neither of them could remember which one it had been exactly. They shared a meal, then Dylan ventured a question.

“You let Lord Sanguine get close to you, but no one else. Why is that? Is it because he is a dremora? Or a Daedric Prince?”

“No, it’s not because of either of that,” Lena laughed. “Lord Sanguine and I go way back… to the time before I lost my form… to the time when I was still a woman… He… well… he makes me feel as if I am a woman still.”

“But you are… although your form does not reflect your essence,” Dylan nodded. “What happened?”

“I was a vampire, then I took the cure, and this is the result,” Lena looked at her hands with disgust. “I did not know this was going to happen. I might not have taken the cure if I did.”

“Why did you seek the cure? Vampires are immortal…”

“Their hearts don’t beat,” Lena’s voice sounded hollow. “They have to drink blood to survive. They are shunned by everyone… I wanted my life back, I wanted to feel a heartbeat…” She sighed. “I’ve got a heartbeat but I am still shunned, I lost myself… I did not get back my life.” She looked at him and smiled. “Lord Sanguine makes me forget it for a time.”

“Your form… what was it like?”

“The same as this, only younger,” Lena shrugged. “A lot younger… I was but seventeen when I turned.”

Dylan moved to sit close to her.

“I’ve never met a woman like you… Well… I’ve never met any mortals before you, but since then we’ve met a lot of people… I am not making sense, I know,” he sighed. “You have the spark inside, yet you allow your form to strangle it… Don’t do that… I wish you didn’t do that… I wish you’d let me close too…”

“I am not separate from my form, that’s the thing… The aches and pains, the weakness, the joints that don’t move… It feels as derelict as it looks,” she smirked. “I cannot ignore it… It does define what I can do with my life.”

“Then we’ll have to fix it,” Dylan said firmly. “The Wellspring… It’s worth a try.”

…

“The Mazken Wellspring is not open to mortals,” a guard at the Pinnacle Rock barred the way when Lena and Dylan approached.

“Without this mortal we would not be here,” Dylan reminded her. “Not until Prince Sheogorath’s return. And even then… remember the way it was in the past? Only some of us got resurrected. For all you know, you could have been dead, forever.”

“That… is a good point,” the guard looked uncertain. “Proceed, but on your head be it, Kiskengo.”

She stepped aside and they entered.

“What did she call you?” Lena asked in surprise.

“Kiskengo – it’s the lowest rank in the Mazken Order,” Dylan shrugged. “Mind you, I think it’s her rank as well.”

They walked through the corridors and reached the Mazken Wellspring. Dark waters were running down a fountain and gathering in a pool.

“Go bathe in it,” Dylan told Lena. “Don’t come out until it’s done. You’ll know when that is.”

She undressed and stepped under the running water. She felt as if layers of skin and flesh were being peeled off of her, it was excruciatingly painful but at the same time she felt reborn… Birth was a painful affair, after all. She wanted to jump out just to stop the pain, but remembered Dylan’s warning. If he had told her it would be hurting that much, she might not have done it… She was glad he didn’t tell her.

Gradually the pain let up. She opened her eyes and looked at her hands, at her legs and feet… They looked young. The joints were no longer swallen. She moved to the edge and jumped out of the pool, and didn’t wince in pain on impact. She twirled and her body responded, her hips and her spine twisting with her. She looked at Dylan, he was smiling.

“It worked, you look young,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Like may be now I’ll have my life back…”

…

The weeks and months that followed were all in a haze. Celebrations of Lena’s recovery were held throughout the Realm. She drank more wine and consumed more felldew than she’d ever done, without thinking of consequences, she felt light, she felt on top of the world. Even Sanguine thought she was going to excess… but no one dared restrain Lord Sheogorath.

“You are closest to her, you must stop her,” the Mazken Commander spoke to Dylan one day. “She asked for a male, you responded, and now it is your duty to save her from herself. This Realm needs Lord Sheogorath who is not drunk or high on felldew.”

“I am but a guard,” Dylan objected. “She won’t listen to me.”

“Go to it, Kiskengo, I shall hear no objections.” She glared at him and left. What was he to do?

…

“My Lord, if I could have a word?” Dylan approached Sanguine at Bernice’s Taphouse.

“Dylan, is it?” Sanguine squinted at him. He was drinking alone, something was weighing on his mind. “Sit down. Let’s hear it.”

“It is about Wolf, err, Lord Sheogorath,” Dylan spoke in a low voice and Bernice edged a bit closer to them. “She needs to sober up.”

“Aye, that she does,” Sanguine nodded. “That’s easily done. What comes next will be the real challenge.”

“What comes next?” Dylan looked perplexed.

Sanguine watched Bernice serve them another bottle of wine and didn’t speak until she was more or less out of earshot.

“Why do you think she makes for such a befitting Lord Sheogorath? How is it that she seems to belong to both halves of this land?” He squinted at Dylan. “She broods with the Demented and revels with the Manics, sometimes within the space of a day… but never at the same time, exactly like the Prince himself.”

“She has his blessing, that is clear,” Dylan nodded.

“She went from loathing herself to being reborn, she will swing back as soon as she stops drinking, and will keep swinging faster and harder until she hits the wall…” Sanguine took a sip of his wine. “She needs a champion to catch her, the same as did her Prince.”

They kept talking well into the night. Bernice tried to listen in but couldn’t quite figure out what they were planning.

…

Lena was flying. She felt lighter than air, she soared above the orange trees of Mania and green swamps of Dementia, she saw the sparkling blue sea around the Isles and the dazzling starry sky above them. She saw people below going about their business, grummites fighting gnarls and elytras, Mazken and Aureals patrolling the roads of the Realm. She was Lord Sheogorath, and this was her land.

“You are a cheat,” a voice spoke behind her. “You are mortal. You cannot rule this land.”

She turned around in flight – a wraith was raising its sword. It swung it and Lena fell down.

“Cheer to Lord Sheogorath!” Someone shouted, and a bowl of felldew appeared before her eyes. “Your withdrawal begins. Don’t let it.” She ate the felldew and soared into the air again.

“You squandered my gift,” a voice spoke behind her again. It was another wraith. “I gave you immortality and you swapped it for a decrepit body!” The wraith raised its sword but Lena twisted away.

“Quick, drink this!” Someone was holding a goblet. “The wraith will drown in wine and won’t return!” Lena drank and the wraith vanished. The flight continued.

“It won’t stop until you find the traitor,” another voice spoke behind her, it wasn’t a wraith. She turned to look – a man in a black robe was gliding through the air with her, his hood was hiding his face. “You aren’t done yet.” She looked down. The land was covered in blood.

“It’s not blood – it’s wine! Don’t believe him!” She heard voices all around, people were thrusting goblets at her, all filled with wine. “Drink! Pass the time! Nothing else matters!”

She took a goblet and started drinking. The man in a black robe lowered his hood and looked at her with dead eyes of a corpse. “You were too late,” he said. She screamed and he vanished.

Lena was flying through the air, enjoying the light breeze and the starry sky.

“You are a cheat. You are mortal. You cannot rule this land.” A wraith spoke behind her…

…

Lena didn’t know how many times the cycle repeated – ten, twenty, a hundred? Definitely more than ten… perhaps even more than a hundred… she was stuck and could not get out. Wasn’t there something she needed to do? Somewhere she needed to be? She was in a haze, red mist hung in the air.

The air was getting thicker, restraining her movements, pushing back, flying turned into swimming, and she was hardly making any progress at all. But was she in a hurry? No, she wasn’t. She was already too late, there was no longer any point in going anywhere. She lost it all. She missed her chance. It was all gone. She was alone.

She stopped. The red mist turned to dust, black dust filling the air. Black dust. Black earth. The Void opened under her feet and pulled her in. Sithis was waiting in the distance.

It wasn’t Sithis, it was a wraith. It threw a curse and Lena felt her heart pierced with pain. Every beat was now an agony. “You wanted a heartbeat, and you got what you asked for!” The wraith screeched. Lena felt blood rising in her throat. Each heartbeat was pushing out more blood.

Lena was bleeding. Her blood was black, thick and viscous. Her heart didn’t beat but the pain did not subside. She felt a tug at her soul. Black tar was rising around her, absorbing her black, viscous blood. A silver swirl appeared on the surface of the tar, it came from Lena’s body and disappeared into the depths. Another, thicker swirl appeared and also drowned. Her soul was leaking into the tar.

…

A blinding light permeated all. Pain beyond compare surged through Lena’s body. She opened her eyes – the light was too bright to look at, yet she looked. Colours were coming into focus, she was looking straight into the sun. The sky was azure blue, getting brighter with every moment. The clouds were dazzling white, shining like diamonds. The earth was covered in grasses and flowers – gold, purple, scarlet, emerald. The waters were sparkling with silver ripples on indigo waves…

Lena was flying.

…

A shadow appeared in the distance. It took but a moment and a black arrow pierced Lena’s heart. The sun went dark and the colours withered, the waters opened and Lena fell in. Unable to swim, she drowned. Black waters closed in.

She hit rock bottom. Black lava rocks were all around, their jagged edges cutting her skin. She bled and dark, inky clouds formed around her wounds. She tried to walk but the rocks cut her feet. She fell and rolled downhill, it felt like being inside an Iron Maiden. Then someone turned on the drip.

Black came in many colours. Each shade carried a particular type of pain. There were hundreds, and they kept changing. They could not be ignored as they were never the same. The pain of the soul was the worst pain in the Void. It was getting too much. Lena could not go on. “Forgive me, Speaker, I failed,” she said and closed her eyes. It was all it took to die – she just had to will it.

…

“Put your hands on her chest and push! Again! Harder! Again!” Sanguine was watching Lena’s pupils. “She’s gone into cardiac arrest! Stand clear!” Dylan jumped aside and Sanguine shot a lightning bolt at Lena’s chest. “Try again! Quick!”

“Are you sure this is how you revive mortals?” Dylan was doing his best but Lena’s heart wasn’t beating.

“Yes, yes,” Sanguine looked worried. “But this one is too stubborn… Knife!” He gestured for a sharp blade on the dressing table that he had insisted on having at hand. Dylan handed it to him, not sure what to expect.

“NOOOOO!!!” He screamed as Sanguine cut open Lena’s chest and wrapped his hand around her heart.

“I am not trying to kill her, she is already dead,” Sanguine shot a glance at Dylan. “But I am not giving up on her yet.”

He squeezed her heart rythmically a few times and Lena jerked, then breathed in sharply. He continued a little longer, and her breathing stabilised. Sanguine released her heart watching to make sure that it continued beating on its own and that Lena continued breathing, then removed his hand from her chest and cast a healing spell to close the wound. Dylan was stunned, he stood as if stricken. “That is rebirth like I have never seen before,” he said in a barely audible voice.

“Mortals call it resuscitation,” Sanguine answered softly. “There is a small window after their heart stops beating when they can be brought back.”

“Will she stay alive?” Dylan watched Lena breathe fearing for it to stop any moment.

“That will depend on her. She died because she no longer saw the point of dealing with the pain of living.”

…

“I am always here for you… Return when you are ready.” A man in a black robe lowered his hood. His dark hair escaped from its tie and fell softly around his face. His brown eyes were almost black, looking at her and smiling in the corners. She breathed in his scent, bitter and sweet at once, and felt her heart starting to beat. The pain receded. She would see another day.