The Journal of Artorius Valiente : The Rot Below Entry 4 || Lichtown Outskirts [A Skyrim Quest Mod]

The death of the Saint did not bring the peace I had expected. The ballroom grew silent as the last traces of corruption receded from Adabelle’s remains. The crimson glow that had filled the chamber dimmed, and for the first time in centuries the throne sat empty. Yet our journey was far from over. A hidden passage beyond the throne led us into the palace’s living quarters. Unlike the halls below, these chambers felt strangely untouched by the rot. Dust covered ancient furniture, and faded tapestries still hung upon the walls. It was as though time itself had simply stopped. There, waiting for us, was Adabelle. Not her body. Her soul. The woman we had first encountered imprisoned within the Bonded Prison. For the first time since meeting her, she looked at peace. The burden she had carried for countless centuries seemed lighter now that her corrupted half had finally been laid to rest. She thanked us. Not as heroes. Not as saviors. Simply as travelers who had granted mercy where none had existed before. Then she revealed the final truth. The palace where we stood was not truly Lich Town. Not all of it. Rather, it was only the upper reaches of a much larger kingdom hidden beneath Tamriel. The true city lay even deeper. Far below the palace. Far below the caverns. Far below anything I could have imagined. The palace had merely served as a gateway. A throne built atop a grave. With her corrupted half destroyed, the wards barring entry to the lower city could finally be lifted. Adabelle raised her hand and ancient magic filled the chamber. I felt something shift beneath us. Massive mechanisms awakened in the darkness below. Stone groaned. Ancient gates opened. A path revealed itself. The way into Lich Town proper. Yet before we departed, Adabelle offered one final warning. “The Hierophant waits below.” The name alone was enough to darken the room. Elroy. The man whose grief had become a plague upon this city. The architect of the rot. The servant of Namira. But reaching him would not be simple. Two powerful servants stood between us and the cathedral where Elroy now ruled. The first was an undead pyromancer. Once a brilliant mage, centuries of undeath had transformed him into something far more dangerous. Deep within the lower city he commanded living flame, using fire to burn away both flesh and soul. The second was the experiment. It was a homunculus an artificial being stitched together through alchemy and necromancy, born not of nature but of grotesque experimentation. Its body was an uneven patchwork of pale flesh, fungal growths, and exposed muscle, as though several corpses had been crudely molded into a single form. Both would need to fall. Only then would the path to Elroy open. Only then could we end what had begun all those centuries ago. Serana and I stood alone once more. Ahead of us, a massive stairway descended into darkness. Far below, faint lights flickered in the distance. The true Lich Town awaited. And somewhere beyond its streets stood a cathedral dedicated not to the Divines, but to rot itself. For the first time since entering this nightmare, I could feel the end approaching. The question was whether we would survive long enough to see it.