The chamber shook with the clash of our blades.My arms felt ready to snap, every muscle screaming as I forced steel against the void. Sparks hissed across stone, shadows bending, twisting, breaking under the Beacon's glow behind me.
Malkoran's shade pressed harder. His hollow eyes glared, his voidblade heavy with hate, like it carried the weight of the entire tomb. My boots scraped against the stone floor as he drove me back inch by inch.
"You shine with borrowed light," he hissed, voice echoing inside my skull. "But light falters. Shadows remain."
I gritted my teeth and shoved free, stumbling to the side. My chest burned, lungs dragging in air like it was molten lead. My sword felt heavier than iron, my hands slick with blood from where the void had grazed me.
And still, he came.
I tried to channel magicka into my blade, tried to keep it glowing, burning bright against the darkness. It worked—at first. Every strike sent a flare of light through his shade, every cut ripped more smoke and shadow from his form. But my magicka drained too fast. My stamina buckled. I couldn't keep this up.
My sword dipped. My legs shook. The shade saw it. He surged, voidblade raised, screaming that soundless scream.
And that was when I'd had enough.
"Shut the hell up," I growled, my voice cracking raw.
He swung. I barely parried, steel shrieking against the void. My arms went numb. My knees nearly buckled. And somewhere in that instant—between fear, pain, and the crushing weight of Meridia's constant voice screaming in the back of my skull—I snapped.
Her voice had been pushing me this whole time. Fight harder. Do not falter. Strike again. Finish him. She barked orders like I was a puppet. But I wasn't. I wasn't her pawn, her "champion," her disposable mortal piece.
I reached for the Beacon.
The light pulsed against my palm, thrumming alive. It was still mine, still answering me. Not her.
"Fine," I spat, voice hoarse. "You want light? Then choke on it."
With every ounce of strength left in me, I hurled the Beacon straight into Malkoran's shade.
The relic cracked through the air like a falling star. His voidblade twisted to catch it, but the Beacon didn't stop. It pierced through the black like it was nothing—embedding in the hollow of his chest.
The shade froze. His scream tore the chamber apart.
And then it burst.
A ray of light exploded outward, brighter than anything my eyes had ever endured. It tore through shadow, ripped apart the chamber's darkness like paper set to flame. The ground split, the walls shook, and every trace of corruption screamed as it burned.
I was thrown back, slammed into stone, the breath knocked out of me. My vision seared white, my ears ringing from the force.
When I could finally see, I realized—he was gone.
Not beaten. Not weakened. Gone.
Malkoran's shade was ash, scattered in the air, dissolved into the clean emptiness left behind by the Beacon's wrath. The temple was silent. Pure.
I dropped to my knees, chest heaving. My sword slipped from my grasp and clattered across stone. Sweat and blood stung my eyes. My body trembled with the kind of exhaustion that made it feel like even standing again might kill me.
And there it was.
The Beacon.
Hovering in the air, faint cracks running along its crystalline surface, but still burning. Still alive. Slowly, it drifted down into reach. My hand shook as I grasped it, but the light didn't reject me. It pulsed—warm, heavy, like it belonged to me now.
That was when her voice returned.
"You dare," Meridia hissed, her tone sharper than thunder. "You dare wield My Beacon as a weapon? To cast it like a stone? To risk My eternal flame on such reckless defiance?"
I laughed weakly, bitter, coughing blood into the corner of my mouth. "Worked, didn't it?"
Her fury crashed into me like waves. "Insolent mortal! You profane My relic. You spit upon My blessing. You are unworthy to touch what belongs to Me!"
But the Beacon stayed in my grip. It didn't vanish, didn't flee back to her pedestal. It had chosen me. And that burned her more than my defiance.
"I'm not your pawn," I rasped, forcing myself unsteadily to my feet. My whole body shook, but I stood anyway. Sword in one hand. Beacon in the other. "I don't care about your blessing. I fight because I refuse to die. I live because I refuse to bow. And your Beacon—" I raised it slightly, its glow reflecting in my bloodied face. "—chose me."
Her silence cut sharper than her rage. For a long moment, nothing stirred in the temple. Then at last—
"Defiant. Reckless. Insufferable mortal." Her words dripped like venom. Then, quieter, cracking at the edges before regaining Daedric composure: "And yet… you stand. The darkness is destroyed. My will is done. Against My command. Against My words. You… succeeded."
It was like dragging a confession out of her by force.
I smirked faintly, too tired to do much else. "Guess you'll have to deal with me a little longer."
Her presence surged—furious, unrelenting—but she didn't strike me down. Couldn't.
The Beacon pulsed once in my hand. Alive. Mine.
And for the first time since stepping into this cursed temple, I exhaled. The battle was over.
But Meridia's fury was far from finished.