{Pilot} Tower Defense - Chapter 1: A Left Turn Into The Void (Patreon)

AN: Bonus chapter! I thank you all for the support you provide, it allows me to have hope to make writing a career path.

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Disclaimer: I own no source material.

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Chapter 1: A Left Turn Into The Void

The arctic winds howled, breaking upon the impenetrable wards of the College of Winterhold. The sound, akin to siege weapons smashing against ramparts, was muted from the roar of a winter storm outside its walls to a dull breeze.

What little was allowed through the wards was the snow.

Snow that piled up on the wide rooftop pathways, creating an idyllic atmosphere.

Or it would have been, if not for the crater an explosion had torn into the rooftop, a hastily cast ward the only thing keeping the snow from filling it.

And within that ward, three men stood with varying expressions.

J’zargo, a wide-eyed Khajiit, Destruction and Restoration apprentice, looking shell-shocked and slightly ill.

Phinis Gestor, the College's balding Conjuration professor, was looking half-infuriated and half-worried at something that was and wasn’t there.

And Savos Aren, the Dunmer Archmage of the College and a fellow Conjuration master of far greater skill, was looking calm and alert, with only the tightening around his eyes showing a mix of seriousness and professional curiosity.

A stray breeze slipped through the wards, stirring the robes of all three mages.

Before them lay a crater in the rooftop, with still-visible pieces of a ritual circle, scattered remains of ingredients, and shattered soul stones.

The balding professor turned his stern gaze on the student. "Explain it again, J'zargo. Leave anything out, and I'll see you expelled for this."

J'zargo paled further at the threat. "It was not meant to go this way. J'zargo did not know such a thing would come about."

"Of course you didn't! You fools attempted a master-level Conjuration ritual before you were ready!" Phinis was practically spitting as his deeply controlled temper reared its head. "And you're not even a Conjuration mage; did you forget one of the first lessons we even teach at this institute?! You don't cross branches without enough experience! Your presence may have been the reason this happened!"

The twenty-year-old Khajiit backed down in the face of that anger as shame crossed his feline features. "Damian assured J'zargo he knew what he was doing. The ritual was said to be tailored to his desires. J'zargo trusted him and was curious."

Phinis slapped his forehead with a groan. “Of course that idiot boy thought he knew what he was doing. Did my nephew learn nothing from all my lectures?”

“Now, now, let’s all relax.” The Archmage, who had been carefully reviewing the ritual site, waved a hand gently. “Mistakes were made, as they often are with students.”

Phinis shot him an incredulous look. “Sir, this is not a mistake. This is a foolish disaster. If he weren’t my nephew, I would have written him off as dead already.”

The Archmage chuckled softly and calmed him with a gesture. "I too wouldn't count young Damian gone for good just yet. That young man has a way of thinking well outside convention." He shifted his gaze to the young Khajiit. "However, that does lead to the question of where our wayward genius got his hands on a master-level Conjuration ritual formula."

At his raised brow, J'zargo drooped his shoulders. "Enthir sold it to us. Took most of J'zargo's funds along with Damian's too. Expensive."

“I’ll kill him.” Phinis stated simply. He turned and headed for the College, calm fury on his face, only for Savos to casually throw a ward in his way.

“Calm yourself, Phinis.” A flick of the Archmage’s fingers sent a powerful calming spell toward the man. “Enthir is a useful resource to the College.”

The Conjuration teacher's features relaxed back to his usual detached expression, but the anger inside him did not vanish. "That black-hearted Bosmer bastard sold my nephew a faulty ritual formula. I will not let that go unpunished."

“I did not say he will get off free from this, but it would set a bad example if we started killing students." The Archmage paused and tacked on a few more words. "On purpose, anyway."

J'zargo choked on his spit at the side while Savos hid a conspiratorial grin.

The Archmage went on. “Besides, we should focus on the current situation before we delve into who was at fault.”

The Dunmer turned to the young Khajiit while, behind his back, where neither of the other two could see, he flicked his fingers as certain traces of the ritual were obscured. "Now, what was Damian's intent with the ritual? I assume he wasn't trying to summon an unbound Dremora Lord?"

J’zargo shook his head quickly. “No, no, J’zargo has no desire to die just yet. Damian was looking for an unbound Dremora merchant.”

The master-level Conjuration ritual was intended to summon unbound Dremora.

Dremora who served no Daedric Prince, each with their own desires that drove them to travel between various realms of Oblivion.

They were open to dealing with mortals if summoned, but as was often the case, they refused to submit to those weaker than them and harvested the summoner's soul.

Phinis’s eyes narrowed. “By the Nine, he should know how stupid of an idea that is. What could he have possibly been looking to purchase?”

J'zargo shifted uncomfortably under the teacher's gaze. "J'zargo does not know. Damian muttered something about knowledge related to sealing magic, but Damian did not tell J'zargo anything specific."

Phinis's face paled as he realized Damian's intent, and he turned a panicked look to the Archmage, who himself had a thoughtful expression.

"Is that so?" Savos ran a hand through his short goatee and looked back at the remains of the ritual circle. “Well, his reasoning aside, this ritual was done in reverse, with added elements that made it highly unstable. Rather than pull his target to him, it seems Damian pulled himself toward his target, while also doing something more. I cannot say what exactly.”

The Conjuration professor didn’t see everything the Archmage did, but he understood what was implied.

“J’zargo, head inside.” Phinis commanded, waited for the apprentice to rush off, then turned to his superior. “That boy sent himself to Oblivion?”

“Not exactly.” Savos hummed and summoned an elaborate staff to his hand. “The traces do not feel like any realm I am familiar with.”

The Archmage poked and prodded the fragile space in the center of the ruined crater. “He breached the barrier of Mundus but went in an entirely different direction than any known realm. It’s as if instead of taking a right turn into Oblivion, he took a left out into the void.”

Phinis watched him work for a moment before asking. "Can you bring him back, sir?"

A trace of hope entered his eyes before it died with a shake of the Dunmer's head.

“No. I have no idea where he went. There is no guarantee I could make it to his location even if I managed to replicate whatever it is he did.” The man noticed Phinis’s expression and chose to give the man some measure of peace. “However, the spatial channel should be stable enough to send something small through.”

Savos gathered magicka into his staff and stabbed a point in space as a small tear in reality opened like an inverted summoning portal.

The Archmage removed a satchel from his side and paused only long enough to remove an amulet from his neck and place it inside before tossing the satchel through the portal.

The dark purple spatial channel collapsed on itself moments later, and the connection was officially cut.

“There we go, that should help young Damian a bit.” Savos clapped his hands.

Phinis didn’t get the chance to comment and could only drop the finger he was in the process of raising. “Sir… I was hoping to send a message.”

Savos blinked with a sheepish look. “Ah, my apologies.”

The balding professor could only sigh and let it go. “What did you send him?”

“Just some basic potion supplies to tide him over. It’s all I had on hand, I’m afraid.” The Dunmer seemed apologetic.

Phinis shook his head. “No, even that is something I’m grateful for. If only my skills were greater, I might have been able to help.”

The Archmage gave him a knowing look and patted the man’s shoulder. “Don’t feel too down. You dedicated your time to helping water the talents of the new generations. There is nothing to begrudge about that.”

Phinis slowly nodded. "I know. I just wish I could have done more. He's all the family I have left."

"You have done all you could, dutifully teaching him this last decade.” Savos reassured. “Leave the rest in his capable hands.”

Phinis snorted. “Capable my ass. The only thing I can rely on that brat for is making trouble.”

“But it is always such amusing trouble our young genius gets up to.” The Archmage cracked a grin. “Such as that ‘Shock Therapy’ bed he enchanted. Who knew electricity could be used for relaxation?”

The balding professor twitched. “Yes, and who knew our resident Destruction professor would lay claim to it so fiercely.”

“On the bright side, Faralda has mellowed out wonderfully since then.” Savos admitted with an immature chuckle. “Stress is a terrible thing, after all.”

Phinis pinched the bridge of his nose. “That boy will be the death of me.”

“Then you can simply raise your corpse and keep going.” The Dunmer waved it off.

“With all due respect, sir.” Phinis deadpanned at him. “You’re an ass.”

“I know.” Savos’s eyes twinkled. “Ah, speak of the Daedra.”

Phinis turned where the other man was looking and saw the golden-skinned Destruction professor approaching, wearing the same no-nonsense expression she always had.

The Altmer reported. “Sir, a young man who passed the apprentice exam is claiming to be the Dragonborn.”

Phinis sputtered as Savos raised a brow. “Is that so? What branch did he sign up for?”

“Destruction.” Faralda seemed smug.

Phinis snorted. “Another savage. Wonderful.”

Faralda shot him a disdainful look. “Spoken as if a gravedigger could understand the intricacies of Destruction magic.”

“At least my students don’t get drunk on power and fancy themselves dragons with a few novice spells.” Phinis countered.

The Altmer narrowed her eyes. “Says the man whose students often start cults.”

The two shot fierce glares at each other before the Archmage cut in. "Now, now, children. You're all amazing. Faralda, is the new student settled in?"

The golden-skinned Mer stepped back and nodded imperiously. "Of course, sir." She paused then with a frown. "What of young Damian?"

"He's gone." Phinis said emotionlessly, only to have the Archmage's staff tap his shoulder.

"Don't say misleading things, Phinis." He turned to Faralda's stony face with a grin. "The boy has gone on an adventure. I'm sure he'll find his way home eventually."

Faralda’s face gave nothing away, but her eyes spoke volumes of her worry. “Sergius won’t be happy to hear that his prized student vanished.”

Phinis scowled at the mention of the Enchanting professor. “Sergius is never happy.”

Even Faralda couldn’t deny that, having heard of the strict teachings of the old Imperial that drove away countless students.

She focused on her superior instead. “How soon will Damian return?”

"Who's to say?" Savos shrugged. "A few months, years perhaps? You know how young mages are with their travels. Everything shiny will distract them from their path.”

Faralda grumbled something unflattering about teenagers under her breath, then cleared her throat. "Very well, it will give me time to work out his punishment for this stunt."

Savos and Phinis equally felt a trace of pity for Damian at the frosty shine in her eyes as she spoke.

It wasn't lost on either of them that Faralda had taken on a familial, almost motherly, role in Damian’s life since the day he appeared on the College’s doorstep a decade before, a boy in tattered, bloody robes with dead eyes.

Savos coughed into his hand. “Right. Well, nothing to do but wait now. I’m sure young Damian is fine wherever he is.”

0000

Somewhere else at the same time.

“BURN! BY THE NINE, BURN YOU FOUL DEMONS!"

A raw roar tore from Damian’s throat as he poured whatever magicka he had left into a Flames spell, washing it over the drooling, savage, red-eyed, black-bodied beasts.

In his mind, every one of them wore the same grinning face of the Archmage he knew was responsible for his current predicament.

“DAMN YOU, SAVOS!”

0000

Back at the College.

Savos Aren grinned far too innocently.

“He has my utmost confidence.”

Chapter End.

AN: Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter is from the MC, Damian's, POV.