#tes fest!

[late-nite-scholar]

Aug 6th (Day 2): Prompt- Beloved / Ritual

Day 2: Beloved- An early 4th Era Imperial children’s tale/fable.

Prompts by @tes-summer-fest

Nord HoK x Martin Septim, Mara x Akatosh

Warnings- None

Wordcount- ~800

(Made this in Canva for practice and really pleased with how it turned out! It's the free version so I couldn't get rid of the watermarks)

****

(A Fourth Era Imperial children's tale)

The Great Akatosh was sad. 

The other Divines didn't understand why. He'd just won a great victory against Mehrunes Dagon, why should he be sad? He should be celebrating! 

But Akatosh remained sad. 

His beloved wife, Mother Mara, went to him. He was sitting, looking out the window of his room. 

"What's wrong, my dear?" She asked him. "What has upset you so?" 

Akatosh sighed. "My son and aspect, the hero Saint Martin, took my mantle to defeat our enemy Mehrunes Dagon. Now, that part of me is filled with great sadness." 

"What can be done to cure this malady?" Mara asked. 

"My sadness is reflected in one on Nirn." He held up his left hand. Around it was a red, braided thread. "We are bound to her by it." 

"Let us find this woman then!" Mara cried. 

But so great was Akatosh's grief that he could not be moved and he spoke no further. Mother Mara knew she would have to find this mortal on her own. 

She cast her gaze over the Great Empire of Men. There was much sadness there. Many people had been affected by the Oblivion gates and the daedra. Mara disguised herself as a kindly old woman, a flower seller, and went to the cities of Cyrodiil to find the woman bound by the red thread. 

In Anvil she found a woman crying at the docks, her face stained with tears. 

"What has happened, my dear?" She asked. 

"My husband was lost at sea in a storm," the woman replied. Mara hugged her to comfort her, but she did not have the red thread around her wrist. 

In the ruins of Kvatch, she found a woman sitting in the remains of a house, her silken gown torn and filthy. 

"What has happened, my dear?" She asked.

"The daedra destroyed my home and I have lost everything," the woman replied. Mara told a joke to comfort her, but she did not have the red thread around her wrist. 

In Leyawiin she found a woman sitting on a bench in a park, head in her hands. 

"What has happened, my dear?" She asked. 

"Bandits have stolen the goods I was to sell and I am now poor," the woman replied. Mara brought her something to eat to comfort her, but she did not have the red thread around her wrist. 

In Cheydinhal, she found a woman wandering the streets, tearing her hair. 

"What has happened, my dear?" She asked. 

"A sickness has taken my children and I am alone now," the woman replied. Mara sang her a song to comfort her, but she did not have the red thread around her wrist. 

Disheartened, Mara went to the Imperial City. She worried she would never find the woman with the red thread and she would never cure Akatosh's sadness. 

She sat down at the base of a large dragon statue, beside another woman with bright orange hair. She looked sad, and so Mara asked, "What has happened, my dear?" 

The woman sighed. "I have been afflicted by great sorrow. I have tried to help others, to maybe make the sadness fade. I helped a woman who lost her husband, another her home. I helped a woman who was robbed, and another whose children were ill. I hugged them, told them jokes, brought them food and song, but the sadness stays with me." 

The woman touched the foot of the statue, and Mara saw that around the woman's wrist was the red thread!

Mara asked her, "Where did you get that red thread?" 

"I bound myself to another in everlasting love with it," the woman replied. "A love so strong I still feel him through it, though he is lost to me." 

"Then you are the one I am looking for!" Mara cried, shedding her disguise. "My husband's aspect is afflicted by sadness also, bound by a red thread. I came to find the one who reflected it. But you are not his reflection. You have walked as I have walked, done as I have done. As Saint Martin is my husband's aspect, you, Champion of Cyrodiil, are mine." 

The women took each other's hands, and then only one remained. This new aspect joined her Divine source, and they returned to Aetherius together. In joy, they reunited with Great Akatosh. 

"My beloved, my Queen of Heaven! You have returned! And we are both whole, both increased by our love!" he cried. And all sadness was gone from that moment forward. The Divine couple and their aspects were full of joy. And that is why we bind ourselves with a red thread when we marry, to show that our love is a reflection of the love between Mother Mara and Great Akatosh.

[falmerbrook]

TES Summer Fest Day 4 2: Golden

Portrait of Vivec, the Poet.

I'm a few days late, but I wanted to take my time on this.

[orfeoarte]

this was meant to be for tesfest but I, uh, got super busy.

saathel before and after faendal shows up 🥰

[vinndas]

TES Summer Fest: August 14th – ghost or hungry

Ghost loving ghost.... @tes-summer-fest

[oldfilmsflicker]

new-to-me #853 - We Were Dangerous

[thehappiestgolucky]

High key exited for Grand Fest so I doodled the girls in some fits for it. Will do the rest of their crew just had to get the girlies because

yknow….🏳️‍🌈?

[skyrim-forever]

TES Summer Fest Day 1: Breath

A/N: Omg she managed to do something??? :P Decided I'm gonna make these prompts low stakes for myself and use them to write snippets of my oc Theodora. Tagging: @tes-summer-fest

Warnings: Brief mention of suicidal ideation and alcoholism, one line each but tagging just in case <3

The waters of Lake Ilinalta were cool against her skin as she dove below the surface. Theodora’s body had been aching, the bruises and cuts still fresh from the fight with Alduin. Though the battle had been a few weeks ago, her body had much to go in the way of healing. The Greybeards had fixed her up well enough that she could make her way to Lakeview Manor. Where she had been hiding out since, the bottle being her constant companion.

The world did not know yet of Alduin’s defeat, nor did they know she was alive. Well, one did know she was alive. Giving the courier strict instructions to not let the letter get into anyone else’s hands, she sent word to Ondolemar. A simple message “I am okay, it is done. Will see you when I can.”. She didn’t want him to worry, but not even he could comfort her now. 

Coming up for another breath, Theodora floated on her back. The water had proven to be soothing for her aches, the fresh water making her feel somewhat well again. She could have visited Danica at the Temple in Whiterun, that probably would have sped up healing; but then she would have had to talk to people. Paraded around as the Hero, titles and duties throw at her, any chance of a normal life would turn to dust. It had gotten worse as her fame became more known, every Jarl wanted her in their court, every warrior wanted her advice, and when she reentered the world it would be unbearable. With the Civil War ended by her hand and the threat of Alduin quelled, it was only a matter of time before Tullius’s eyes turned towards the Dominion. Theodora didn’t have another war in her, the echoes of the Great War in Anvil and being pivotal in the Skyrim Civil War had taken their toll. And even if she could, how could she fight the one she loved? She had found solace in small moments with friends, traveling with Serana, swapping stories with Camilla, sparing with Irelith. They made her feel normal, she had connections to this world again. Secure connections in the way that Ondolemar couldn’t be, due to their opposing sides. 

Thoughts raced through her mind, too quick to be fully formed, mere fragments of ideas. The Empire, love, war, pain. All leading up to an idea that had plagued her since Sovengarde I wish I had died there. But of course she did not, she had been made for this, and by Akatosh’s will, she was not done on this mortal plane yet. Holding in her breath, Theodora submerges herself again, hoping when she arises she’ll feel whole.

[throughtrialbyfire]

Summary:

Money in the Rift changed hands as often as the leaves were gold, which was to say, a perpetual flow of currency ran like rivers through the hold. Riften was the cornerstone, the foundation of trade in the autumnal region, caravans and merchants from all across Skyrim - and some, brave or foolish, from beyond - traveling the floors of the long-armed realm, stretching over mountains and valleys and lakes. Of course, the Black-Briar family played more than a small role in the shifting tides of commerce, but who was Brynjolf to object when so much of this coin fell into his pockets?

my prompt fill for day 2 of tesfest, "Golden". of course i had to write about the beloved thief himself <3 i hope you enjoy!

[garzzum]

Two stupid little jesters

[pxgeturner]

Hello honey honey, can I request a sfw alphabet with Tsu’tey? 🎶

hiii sweetheart, here ya go 😚 order up

Affection – how are they with PDA?

— he’d say he does not like pda, save that for the moments you have alone. but at the same time he’s glued to your side, tail wrapped around your wrist, or leg. hissing and growling at any guy who comes near u.

Beauty – what part of you do they find to be their favorite?

— he’s kind of fascinated with your pinkies. the extra finger is so small and cute.

Cuddles – are they a good cuddler?

— it’s kind of awkward tbh. takes a lot of trial and error before you get into the groove of things

Domestitcy – do they want to settle down?

— naturally. na��vi mate for life and tsu’tey does not play around.

Ending – how would they break up with you?

— he’d just start to avoid u, to be honest. he’s gonna be a little cowardly when u finally ask him wtf is up. But he gets over it and tells u it’s over. this would only happen w a human!r sorry not sorry he would be like “you humans do not typically mate for life so then why should I be tied to you for the rest of my life you pathetic tawtute.” but then again he’s v, v, vvvvv loyal so I don’t rlly see that happening.

Future – where do they see your relationship going?

— it’s all or nothing for him.and he’s giving u his all.

Gentle – how gentle are they?

— with a na’vi mate-- he would feel incredibly unafraid, of course that doesn’t mean he would be callous. He just doesn’t need to treat them like glass. w a human mate tho mmm yeah ur staying at home unless he can be w u.

Hugs – what are their hugs like?

— he’s warm and strong. you feel like nothing bad can touch you while you’re in his arms.

In tune – how well can they read you?

— honestly, it feels like he knows things going on with you before you do.

Jealousy – what are they like when they get jealous?

— hissing, growling, scratching. the other person pinned to the ground with a knife to their throat

Kisses – are they a good kisser?

— man cannot be bad at anything.

Love language – what’s their love language?

— act’s of service and gift giving is easiest for him. it’s the most sensible way to show care to your mate. also quality time.

Memories – their favorite memory with you?

— giving you the mating present he made you and you saying yessss. and then ofc going to seal your bond w eywa as ur witness ofc.

Nicknames – what nicknames are used between you two?

— in true giant fashion, he often calls you tiny. But to him you are also: precious, mate, my heart, u get the gist. — u call him big guy, tsu, mr. serious, tey,

Open – how open with their emotions are they

— not very. it takes him a while to get comfy. and even then he tries not to mention anything he doesn’t feel is “necessary”.

Patience – are they a hot head?

— he gets frustrated easily, but it comes from a place of caring

Quality time – how much time do they spend with you?

— whenever he’s not hunting or helping another member of the clan, he’s right by your side.

Xenos – what’s something strange about them?

— pfft i just thought of the most out of pocket thing he would do. he deffo would like. collect loose hairs to like weave into projects he’s making for u. to like. make it more unique n personalized. bhahahaha. it wouldn’t be completely out of ur hair it would just be like a couple. not noticeable at all. But they’re there

Yuck – what’s what of their icks?

— unseasoned food and being unhygienic.

Zzz – what are their sleeping habits?

— goes to sleep early, wakes up early. but gets back in bed after going out to prepare a breakfast for you.

[late-nite-scholar]

Aug 7th (Day 3): Prompt- Starlit / Teeth

Day 3: Teeth- Azuri tells Kharjo the story of how she was taught to fight by Nerevar. I’m sure I’m way off canon with some of my ideas, but that’s just how it goes sometimes. Also, Kharjo loves to use pet names because he is the actual sweetest. 

Translations: yi daelha- my love (Dunmeris), ahziss siir- my [heavenly, holy] light (Ta’agra), serush- beautiful (Ta’agra)  

Dunmer LDB x Kharjo

Warnings- None

Wordcount- ~1600

(Description in alt text. Azuri is wearing the Seer Robes from the Skyrim Outfitters: Vestoriam Magus mod. Kharjo is wearing Khajiiti Chain Armor from the Khajiiti Armory mod.)

***

It was late when Kharjo finally trudged back up from the jarl’s house to the College. The sun had set and Jone and Jode were out, both waning. Dagi-raht moons. But at that moment he wasn’t looking at them, he was focused on getting back to the Archmage’s Quarters and his beloved. 

But the Archmage's Quarters were empty. 

“Azuri?” 

He checked all the rooms, and found the small door that led up to the roof open. He followed up the spiral staircase until he was outside once again.

She had shed her robes and wore only a soft shirt and pants. Her hair was tied up in a messy knot on top of her head, eyes narrowed in concentration. In her hand she held a staff, but she whirled and thrust it like a spear. Her style was not one he was familiar with, but she obviously well practiced. 

As she turned, she noticed him standing by the door. It startled her for a brief second, her hands tightening around the staff. But then she relaxed, and smiled. 

"You're home, yi daelha!" She ran over to hug him. "How was work?" 

"The jarl's new guards grow more skilled each day. Khajiit already plans to train them harder now, and the jarl agrees. But the day was not supposed to go on so long. Kharjo is sorry he is so late." 

As he leaned down to kiss her forehead, she chuckled. “It’s okay. How many times have I been stuck on a long job? But things are going so well! I still can hardly believe Korir came around the way he did, but I’m glad he did.”

“As is Khajiit, ahziss siir. Now, do tell Kharjo, what are you doing? You fight with that staff in a style Khajiit has never seen. Who taught you this?”

“Nerevar did.”

“You were taught by your First Era warlord?”

“Yeah. You know he’s my ancestor guardian, and while he has a hard time manifesting in our world, we talk quite often in dreams. Let me tell you the story.”

They sat together on the roof, and Azuri began. 

*** (Then) ***

"Azuri!" He greeted. They met as they always did, in a field of flowers and bright sun, though he was certain she’d never been to such a place in the waking world.  

She sobbed as she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him hard. "Nerevar! I… I need your advice. Really bad. I need someone wise to show me if I'm right or not." 

"Of course!" He pulled back, putting his hands on her shoulders. "What troubles you?" 

"Will you swear not to tell anyone else?" 

"Of course, Azuri. I will always respect your privacy." 

She dropped her head. "I want to leave." 

"Leave where?" 

"This House. Mournhold. Morrowind. If I am to escape, I have to go far away where my parents can't find me." 

He nodded. "Where do you plan to go?" 

Her head flew up again. "You aren't going to stop me? Or talk me out of it?" 

"Well I can't actually stop you, and I see no reason to talk you out of it. You've told me more than enough for me to know that going out and getting some independence would be good for you. I don't know how your parents expect you to have any kind of destiny with the way they keep you sheltered." 

Azuri was crying happy tears now, and she hugged him again. "Thank you, Nerevar! Can… can you help me plan? What should I take? What's the best way to get out? I… I think I'll start in Cyrodiil, then make my way… I'm not even sure where. Maybe Skyrim? It's more isolated there but I'm not prepared for that yet." 

"You've been thinking about this. That's good that you recognize where your weaknesses might be. I will help you as much as I can. It's been a long time since I walked the world, but some things don't change." He crossed his arms thoughtfully. “First we’re going to start with how to defend yourself.”

“I… I can use an axe. Like… like the Nerevarine did.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “Ah yes. Rilenna is uniquely skilled with an axe. But you, my dear, are more likely to carry a staff. And my first weapon was a spear. So we will start there. Tomorrow night. I will teach you to fight and we will plan your escape.”  

++

The next night they met again. This time a circle had been cleared in the grass and flowers. Nerevar held two spears, one of which he handed to Azuri. 

“Now then. Make sure you practice this when you can in the real world, too. Any stick or staff or even a curtain rod would work. Now then, hold it like this, and do what I do.”

Azuri did, but soon her shoulders sagged. She let out a frustrated cry. “I’m never going to be as good as you, Nerevar! How can I learn to fight like you?”

He gave her a sigh and a gentle smile. “Do you think I was any good when I first learned to fight?”

“Weren’t you?”

“Azura’s mercy, no! It took a long time, and a lot of dedication, to get to where I was in life. Like everything, it takes practice. And you can do this. You have the will and the strength of mind. Let’s try it again, and then we’ll talk about supplies you should start stockpiling.” 

++

It took time, but Azuri worked tirelessly and began to improve. So Nerevar started to push her harder.  

They were sparring, staves clacking and whirling, when he suddenly slipped around her. Using his greater height, he slipped his staff over her head and used it to pin her arms. He chuckled. 

“What do you do now? I’m bigger and stronger, how do you break free?”

“Magicka?” 

“That will work. How else?”

“I could kick you?”

“Okay, one more.”

“Umm… I don’t know?”

He let her go and came back around. Setting the butt of his spear on the ground, he leaned on it. “You use every tool and weapon your body has. Magicka, feet, elbows, knees, nails, teeth, whatever you can.”

“Teeth? Like, bite them?”

“If it’s you or them? You’re damn right. I’m not here to teach you to fight so it looks pretty. I’m here to teach you to fight so you’ll survive. Fight dirty, and don’t be afraid to. Even if you have to bite them.” He grinned. “But you’re coming along well. I think you’ll be ready by your birthday like you want to be. Now let’s run through that again.”

*** (Now) ***

“How long did you train with Nerevar?” Kharjo asked. 

“I’ve never stopped. We still talk about it to this day. He always seems to think of new things to tell me, new tricks to put up my sleeve. But before I left Mournhold, we trained for the better part of a year. I actually did have a curtain rod in my room I used to practice with.”

“And how many have felt the wrath of your teeth?” 

She laughed. “I’ve bitten my fair share of enemies. And what he taught me works well because fighting styles have changed so much, so it throws opponents off when I start pulling out Chimer spear tactics and gives me an advantage. And he taught me how to survive outside of fighting, like how to make a camp and how to just be in the world. I owe him everything. I never would have gotten out otherwise.”

“Then Khajiit is grateful also. Would… would you teach Khajiit your Chimer fighting style? Kharjo will teach you what he knows of the styles of his homeland in return.”

Eyeing up his plate-armored form, she raised an eyebrow. “You want me to teach you how to fight? I mean… I certainly can, but...” 

“Khajiit would rather train with no one else.” He butted her gently with his forehead and kissed her cheek. “But for now, Khajiit would like supper and a bath, preferably with his serush.”

She kissed him back. “I’d like that, too. How about we start the training tomorrow?”

“That is perfect. Khajiit looks forward to it. It will be rather exciting to spar together.” 

“Well, I hope so. But I’m also rather excited about this idea of supper and a bath.”

“Ah, then let us go now, Moonbeam.”

Hand in hand, they descended the stairs until they were back in the inviting warmth of their chamber. They went first to the bathing room, steam rising as she turned on the tap and the tub began to fill.

Smiling at Kharjo as he began to strip out of his armor, Azuri said a silent thanks to Nerevar. It had been her parents' pride and ambition that had led to the Hortator himself being her guardian. But he'd been everything to her that her parents weren't; he'd encouraged her, helped her, loved and believed in her. He'd helped her to win this freedom, this life she'd built. And that was more valuable than anything on Nirn or in any other plane of existence.

Kharjo's purr of her name brought her out of her thoughts, and before she knew it she'd been swept up into his arms and kissed. "By the Moons, you are most beautiful when lost in thought. But perhaps you will join Khajiit in the bath now?"

"Of course, my heart." She giggled, pulling off her cold, sweaty clothes and following him into the steaming tub.

And it was wonderful.

[falmerbrook]

TES Summer Fest Day 1 - Forbidden

A 7 year old Vanus "Trechtus" Galerion stays up late one night reading with his dad.

[inkoherentwriting]

at this point i have so many wips that i need to put them on a wheel to decide which one i will work on next

[vinndas]

give it up for day six... what family did to you and what you did to them.... @tes-summer-fest

[knightnightwrite]

August 14th – ghost or hungry

Day 3 of @tes-summer-fest

K,

Since you enjoyed the scribe’s voice so much from the last copy I sent, I thought I’d include an additional essay they wrote. A warning—they seemed to loathe being commissioned for this kind of brief analytical preface, so it’s a little more caustic than what I’ve previously sent. I pity the writer who paid money for this. Still—I hope it brings contemplative reflection (or at the least, amusement).

~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

The presence of ghosts within literature of all sorts and from all sorts is widespread, to say the least, and to say nothing of the variations of opinions on the undead themselves. Though, the undead and ghosts remain separate entities even as they retain thematically and categorically linked—I am endeavoring to examine ghosts only in this brief chapter. (Insomuch as a ghost can “stand” on their own, apart from other creatures or contexts.)

Mirroring the reality of ghost experiences, ghosts in textual narratives are bound to Nirn either through another’s will or by unfinished business. Their particular potential for dramatic contexts are much utilized in many stories across both mer and man—and within the particular textual realms through which I am most familiar, their disembodiment is, depending on the tastes of the reader(s), character(s), and writer(s), a hinderance or a blessing. How the ghosts themselves are characterized depends deeply on the particular context they exist in—namely, if one is unfortunate enough to come across a salacious or thrilling Breton text, one might only find ghosts as tonal paperweights desperately trying to pin down any essence of interest, import, or intimidation possible.

As with many creatures and characters, one must strike a balance between enough realistic detail and enough space to sense their importance to the narrative—and, of course, this balance must be struck within the confines of the genre(s) and the author’s creative desires. In many ways, ghosts are very similar to a barkeep or knight, tied to specific character conventions but with as much potential for depth and variety as one’s grandmother—yet it is often ghosts who are narratively saddled with the frankly uninspired ghost narratives of vengeance, trauma, violence, and tempestuousness as bland as uncooked saltrice.

Below, you’ll find one such story in an anthology of such narratives masquerading around the deep, dark, complexities of gloomy, atmospheric pastoral literature.

[vosh-rakh]

(a late day 1 for @tes-summer-fest: "arcane")

A cool Grazelands wind weaved its way between the stone towers of Tel Vos, cycling lazily through the courtyard in the center, where two wizards stood apart by several yards, their voices raised slightly as they converse.

“Tell me,” Aryon began, “How do you cast a spell, such as your famous Bound Spear? What is your process?”

Ku-vastei shrugged. “I just visualize the spear coming to my hands, and concentrate, and it does.”

Aryon smiled. “You’re something of a savant, you know? Most people lack the intense imagination required for such intuitive casting, especially for complicated Conjuration spells.”

Ku-vastei scoffed and looked away. “It’s just how I learned it.”

Aryon’s demeanor shifted slightly. Ku-vastei could tell this meant he was about to pontificate. “Most wizards concentrate their focus on preselected symbols and incantations,” he started. “We call these, broadly, ‘arcane anchors.’ These anchors are proven receptacles for, and directors of, magicka for specific purposes.

“For example, how do you go about healing yourself? I’m sure you’re familiar with Restoration as a school.”

“I use the Hearth, usually,” Ku-vastei answered. Without devoting any magicka to the cast, she gestured with her left hand the sign of the Hearth to demonstrate.

“Very good,” Aryon said with the distant smile of a pleased educator. “That’s an efficient and useful spell. But you probably understand the Hearth from the perspective of an old hedge magic remedy, rather than as an official institutionalized spell.”

“I guess?” Ku-vastei offered. “My naheesh taught me a simple variation once, and I learned the Dunmeri style when I came to Vvardenfell.”

“I want you to keep in mind that feeling of ‘pocketing’ magicka into a symbol as we continue,” Aryon said. “It may seem alien to you at first, but you’ll find it radically simplifies the casting of a great deal of complex spells.”

“Okay,” Ku-vastei said, tapping her foot. “When are you going to teach me to teleport?”

“Now, if you’ll be patient,” Aryon said, his smile fading a bit. “The spells ‘Mark’ and ‘Recall’ which I’ll be teaching you have somatic, or gestural, and verbal, or incantational, components, although the verbal component is but a whispered word in both cases. Follow my lead, as I demonstrate the somatic component of ‘Mark.’” 

Aryon kicked out a foot and drew a small circle in a dance-like motion, his hands clasped in a specific gesture, and whispered something. As he returned to facing Ku-vastei, he watched as she tried to match the motion somewhat clumsily. “No, no,” he said, watching her hands. “Wrong mudra.”

“‘Mudra?’” Ku-vastei asked.

“The part of the somatic you do with your hands.” He approached and cautiously took Ku-vastei’s hands, manipulating her fingers into position. She barely tolerated the touch. “Now, I’ll have you try again in a moment. But first, let me tell you the verbal component.” He began to lean in towards Ku-vastei’s ear, but she recoiled from the advance. “It’s tradition,” Aryon said with a frown, “for masters to secretly transmit verbal components to their students. The Telvanni hold very fast to this tradition. Please, let me whisper in your ear.”

Ku-vastei hesitated but nodded. Aryon leaned in again, and whispered in her ear a foreign word, clearly enunciating to make sure she understands the pronunciation. “That,” he said after pulling back, “is for ‘Mark.’ Allow me to go ahead and tell you the verbal component of ‘Recall.’” 

Aryon did so, but after he finished whispering, there was a small crack, and he disappeared. Ku-vastei looked up to find him back where he set his Mark.

“Now,” Aryon said, smiling at her short-lived confusion. “Cast ‘Mark’ with the somatic and verbal components together, and concentrate a moderate amount of magicka to the anchor.”

Ku-vastei attempted the circular casting again, whispering the word Aryon taught her as he did so; the movement came a little more naturally this time, and she felt some magicka leave her reserves as bidden.

“Now,” Aryon said again, “Come closer and I will teach you the somatic component for ‘Recall.’”

Ku-vastei followed his directions, walking up closer to Aryon and standing before him expectantly.

“‘Recall’ is simple. Whisper the word I taught you and tap your chest in this rhythm.” Aryon tapped his sternum with a simple four-beat rhythm. “Go ahead and try returning to your ‘Mark.’”

Ku-vastei nodded, and, whispering the secret word and allocating some magicka to the anchor, tapped the beat on her chest. 

She had teleported before, but doing it yourself was different. It seemed to be more controlled, a simple straight-line through the blackness and you were back in an instant. The mild disorientation the Guild Guides usually gave her was almost completely absent, and she immediately felt as though she was meant to be in her new location.

Aryon looked up at Ku-vastei’s destination and beamed. “Very well done. A lot of students struggle with that spell, but you seem to have caught on instantly. Very well done.”

Ku-vastei grinned and rubbed her hands together. “Alright. What’s next?”