Simon squeezed into a narrow crevice in the mountain wall. If not for some broken steps at the entrance of this cave, no one would have suspected that there was a hidden ruin here. Such caves were too common, often homes for wild beasts, and other than persistent hunters, no one would visit them.
To be honest, there are still many mysterious things hidden in this mountain range. Simon had also visited the altar of Mehrunes Dagon, a Daedric Prince who was the source of the Oblivion Crisis, an evil god. Simon had no interest in Him, but he was quite impressed by the Daedric artifact He left behind in the mortal world—a dagger that had a chance to cause instant death, suitable for lucky stealth characters.
Besides numerous architectural ruins, there was one thing that gave Simon a great surprise—the Lover Stone.
The Standing Stones are ancient totems scattered throughout Skyrim. Those with 'affinity' are blessed by the corresponding constellation, gaining different beneficial effects. After experiencing it himself, Simon understood what 'affinity' meant. It was a resonance, not a magical energy resonance, not a mental power resonance, but more like a destiny resonance.
To say that one's destiny can be deduced from the trajectories of the stars sounds absurd. The Milky Way flows for thousands of years, while human life is but a hundred years. To use an eternal law to correspond to the fleeting changes of the human world is inherently counter-intuitive.
But after all, it's not the same world. The stars here are not suns; they are actually just holes allowing light through. Moreover, all the myriad stars can be considered subordinate deities of the sun, just like the Aedra. Their forms in the mortal world can be changed by human faith.
The Lover Stone consists of sixteen stars. After resonating with Simon, the stars lit up, and blue lines connected the constellation. The totem glowed, and a thin pillar of light shot straight into the sky. Immediately, a hazy galaxy appeared before Simon's eyes. A faceless, crowned figure strode from the depths of space, came before him, and transformed into a flowing, sky-blue robe that draped over him. Simon then looked around, only to find that the starry scenery had vanished, and he was not wearing any robe. Only the bonfire behind him and the mountain wind continued to roar.
The platform where the Lover Stone was located originally had three bandits camping and resting there. Their first words upon seeing Simon were, "You've picked a bad time to get lost, friend."
Simon replied at the time, "You've picked a bad time to get lost, friends!"
Excluding those killed by the Vigilants, the current count of undead has reached one hundred and ten.
Congratulations, congratulations.
...
Passing through the long, dark stone passage, Simon arrived inside a hollow in the mountain. A dark river flowed gurglingly, the ground was broken and uneven, covered with a thin layer of snow. There were fissures in the cave ceiling, and bright daylight streamed down, the reflection from the snow being quite dazzling.
This was a dilapidated ancient ruin, evident from the architectural style, which showed the customs of the Ancient Nords. Simon always adhered to a simple and brutal principle in such places full of mechanisms; if he encountered a door, he would simply break it open by force. He didn't bother looking for switches, as it was ancient, and some mechanisms might have already failed, making it not worth the effort to explore.
Crossing several stone bridges, Simon walked to the front of the passage and dismantled the barred gate, storing it in his Pure Land. It could be melted down and reforged later; no waste allowed.
Further inside was also a dark area. He cast a Candlelight spell and walked on the damp, mossy ground. The air circulation within the mountain was good, and the temperature was also a bit higher than outside. Aside from the bone-chilling dampness, it was actually a good place to camp.
On the way, he passed through a burial area where the Draugr and Frostbite Spiders enthusiastically welcomed him, but they were all converted into Simon's undead minions by the Wail of the Dead.
It could be said that this bloodline magic greatly improved his entire combat rhythm and gave him the demeanor of an undead master, an army of one.
He wound his way further inside. Although it was winding and twisting, the specific route was actually very easy to understand—a single path leading to the end. As he reached the deeper parts, the architectural style abruptly changed, from a Nord tomb style to a Vampire lair style. It was obvious that this Vampire lair was built later, a fact that could be directly perceived from the degree of weathering.
Pushing open the entrance gate of the lair, he came to a balcony from which he could overlook the entire huge cave ahead. A rather large dark lake occupied most of the area, with many openings in the ceiling. Sparse, slanted sunlight pierced through the heavy shadows here.
In the center of the lake was an artificial stone island, its circular walls giving the impression of a cupcake.
Crossing the stone bridge to the island, he found an altar. Five silver-plated braziers were embedded on tracks and could be pushed. In the very center was a blood-stained pentagonal column, and next to it, a completely rotted skeleton.
Simon raised his hand and placed it on the top of the pentagonal column. There was a button here that, when pressed, would eject a spike, which then pushed Simon's palm up—his palm was too hard, and the stone spike failed to penetrate the skin.
Helpless, Simon took a small rabbit from his Pure Land, cut its skin, and dripped blood onto the spike.
However, the rabbit's blood had no effect. Simon had no choice but to try to cut his skin with an Ebony Dagger and squeeze out a little blood.
The spike, stained with the blood of a strong one, satisfyingly retracted into the button. A circle of dark purple flames suddenly ignited around the altar.
The familiar process made Simon smile. He pushed the braziers until all were lit, and the center of the altar split open, revealing a swirling purple halo. The column slowly rose, but the altar sank step by step until a prismatic stone coffin fully emerged from within the halo.
Pushing open the sliding lid of the coffin, a woman dressed in dark red leather armor lay sleeping peacefully inside, her hands clasped over her chest and her head tilted.
A thousand years had passed in a hurry, yet time had left no trace within the coffin. Everything was brand new, without the erosion of weathering. The woman seemed to be experiencing an afternoon nap, her face, illuminated by the faint light, like a weary bright moon, breathtaking in its fleeting beauty.
Without support, the woman leaned forward, almost falling. Simon raised his hand and grabbed her shoulder, preventing her from falling unexpectedly.
This was Serana. Her flaxen hair was styled in a classical updo, her skin as pale as bone. Her clothes were the red and black favored by Vampires, and on her back was a golden scroll—the elder scrolls.
She slowly opened her eyes, her pupils golden, her irises scarlet. "You... who sent you?" Her first words were in Old Nordic, carrying the ancient meaning of isolation from the world.
Seeing that Serana had regained her strength, Simon let go of her hand, allowing her to stand on her own.
"You are Serana, right?"
"Did my father send you?" The woman frowned. Her face was dignified and generous, a pure Nord, with an inherent resolute temperament in her bloodline. When she stood up straight, she would cross her arms, a self-soothing gesture that actually hinted at a sense of unfamiliar detachment.
Simon shook his head, not answering, only saying to her, "Let's go. We'll leave here. You must want to see your mother, don't you?"
Serana narrowed her eyes, seeing the tall man turn and walk away, momentarily at a loss.
"Hey, keep up."
The Princess of Volkihar quickened her steps to catch up with the Troll.
"Anyway, thank you for releasing me. My name is Serana, and yours?"
"I don't have a name, but you can call me White Mountain, or Foodie, whatever you prefer."
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