There was only one way for Simon to enter the Soul Cairn—by making himself incomplete, whether through a physical defect or a missing part of his soul, either would grant him entry.
Serana suggested two options: first, to transform Simon into a Vampire, or second, to use a spell to strip away a portion of his soul.
For Simon, being a Vampire was an expendable bloodline; it held no appeal beyond immortality, which he didn't need for now.
"Can you teach me the spell you mentioned?"
"What? You don't trust me?" Serana's tone held an indescribable sarcasm.
"I don't think we have that deep a foundation of trust between us."
Serana nodded magnanimously, "Indeed. Tell you what, if you release my father, I'll teach you this spell."
"He's certainly still alive; you needn't worry about me deceiving you."
"I believe you, so release him first."
"He is my captive, and your ransom is not enough to move me. Besides, he is very weak; for every day you delay, he gets closer to death."
"First, prove he's still alive!"
Simon raised a hand, and a weak, chick-like Harkon appeared in his palm. He was bound by Five-Ring Chains and had fallen into a deep slumber. With just one glance, Serana recognized her father in his Lord form, and seeing his miserable state, she was instantly enraged.
"I need an explanation!"
"What kind of explanation? That he's not dead is already the extent of my patience." After saying that, he returned Harkon to his pure land.
"Good, excellent." Serana suddenly leaped towards the Soul Cairn, but was caught by the neck in mid-air by Simon. The Vampire princess immediately shot an ice spike at the Troll's face, but it merely shattered against his forehead without even scratching his skin.
"You have such thick skin!" This was a sincere compliment from Serana.
"Calm down, wouldn't it be better if we resolved this amicably?"
"Heh, I'm not like some people who can so shamelessly put on the act of a good guy."
"Don't mock me."
"Am I talking about you? Don't jump to conclusions!"
Simon felt immense pain from this meaningless squabble; it wasn't just wasting time, it was insulting it.
"Don't get agitated."
"How can I not be agitated? My father is in your hands, living a life worse than death. How can I not be agitated? Oh, so now you want to play the peacemaker, huh? Why don't you wash the blood off your hands?"
"I am human! Killing Vampires is only natural."
"I am also a Vampire, why don't you kill me then? Isn't it because I have some use? If I help you, but you then try to kill me, what then?"
"I swear by the Divines, as long as the Vampire before me helps me enter the Soul Cairn, I will not harm her in the slightest."
"Heh heh heh, you're not entirely selfless, are you? Shouldn't you eradicate evil and prioritize the greater good over personal gain?"
"I am merely doing what I believe is right. You Vampires will be purged by the Dawnguard; my contribution is already sufficient."
Serana closed her eyes. After her anger subsided, a deep sense of powerlessness set in.
Only the strong have the right to speak, and only with power comes the right to live.
"I'll teach you."
...
Has anyone ever wondered where the souls consumed after being absorbed into a soul stone go?
The soul itself is not worn down; what is truly lost is merely the spirit.
Souls that have had their spirit drained are incomplete; they cannot ascend after death, meaning they can neither go to the realm of the Divines nor enter the domains of the Daedric Princes. They can only go to the Soul Cairn.
There, countless sorrowful departed souls reside.
...
After Simon used the Soul Rend spell on himself, he could clearly feel a part of himself vanish into the ethereal.
He could now enter the Soul Cairn.
The two descended the winding stone steps, passing through a circle of purple flames. Their vision instantly darkened, transitioning from a brightly lit interior to an empty, cold, boundless world.
They arrived here from a vortex of rubble in mid-air, the same path Valerica once took, leading down to a circular ritual platform on the ground.
Looking around, both were deeply awestruck by the oppressive, desolate, yet mysteriously beautiful scenery of the place.
"What an incredible place," Serana exclaimed.
Looking up, a massive black void dominated the deep blue, dark purple, and gloomy sky, its apparent diameter almost forty degrees. Its edges were interwoven with ice-blue and rose-red streams of light, and behind it, radial pale brown clouds resembled an iris.
The sky was like an eye, gazing down upon the earth.
The horizon was veiled in a reddish-purple haze. In that distant expanse, countless black tower silhouettes stood, like mountains inlaid on the canvas of the sky. Endless lightning flashed ceaselessly within the dark blue clouds above the towers.
The ground was a desolate stone desert, with short, dense clusters of black grass everywhere. Shattered rocks were ubiquitous, gravestones of varying lengths piled up, and withered trees and bones protruded from the ground, offering nothing but the malevolence of death, completely devoid of any vitality. Various glowing fissures were visible everywhere, from which thin jets of soul energy spurted.
Thin mist enveloped everything, visibility was pitifully low, turning gloomy beyond a hundred meters. The air was very dry—like a mummy—and the scent was very pure—like paper. Besides that, the temperature was also very low, feeling roughly around ten degrees below zero Celsius.
Most of the architecture here consisted of ruins, their style completely different from anywhere in the mortal world, constantly reminding people that they were in a mysterious netherworld.
"Where should we go?" Serana asked, bewildered.
Not far ahead, a wraith leaned against a broken stone pillar, in a relaxed posture.
Simon walked over, "Hey! Friend."
The soul ignored him, merely muttering, "What the hell happened?"
Simon shook his head at Serana.
"You go find your mother. We'll go our separate ways. If you encounter danger, you can cast three lightning spells consecutively into the sky, and I'll come as soon as I see them."
"...Thank you."
"You're welcome. We're just getting what we need."
...
Simon wandered around the Soul Cairn.
As soon as he entered this place, he had two strong sensations: one was a feeling of being watched, observed by a great will from the ethereal, and the other was an attraction, the missing part of his soul calling to him.
With a part of his soul missing, his mental energy was significantly reduced and very inactive, which was a huge blow to his strength.
He walked in the direction of his soul's summons, passing through a graveyard piled with withered bones. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck from the sky, and dozens of pitch-black skeletal soldiers rose from the bone-strewn ground, charging towards Simon.
One punch each, and these Black Skulls would turn into a puddle of gelatinous ash upon death, containing a soul stone and ectoplasm.
"Not bad," Simon thought as he converted these restless souls into undead, finding their intelligence to be low, better than animal undead, but not quite at the level of numbered ones.
"Can't let them go to waste," Simon joyfully activated his Wail of the Banshee.
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