"It has been quite a long time since I've given someone a bad day. I do hope I remember how."

"Perhaps he'll be polite enough to leave us some minions as a refresher course."

"That would be convenient."

"It's pretty common around here, weirdly. People gotta have an aesthetic, I guess."

"Their foolishness profits me, so I'll not question it."

She laughs.

"We feeling sneaky or like blowing up the front door?"

"What is the point of being a god if one must slink around like a common thief?"

She snickers. "There's a few Daedric Princes I'd like to say that to. High explosives it is!"

"To that temple, then?"

"Yeah."

And she shifts them to its front steps. It's buried in the earth, an engraved dome rising out of the stone, old and weathered and ash-covered.

Ellayania has been practicing with Hisame's chakra techniques. She blasts the stone clear with a gust of wind.

And Glint starts turning the cultists who run at them into random other things.

A merrily blasting they can go!

She gets some practice in on other elemental jutsu, and, for a few especial unfortunates, the Amaterasu held by one of her eyes.

Unfortunately, nothing here can much challenge them, even the undead in the lower layers.

The center contains a pedestal, hosting a single book, bound in something almost impossibly dark.

Glint scowls, closing her eyes and concentrating.

"Miraak's not - here, properly. That's one of Hermaeus Mora's black books. It's a link to Hermaeus's Realm, Apocrypha - Miraak must be using them to move between Realms." Sigh. "And now he's likely aware we're interested."

"Perhaps if we kill the rest of his followers here and disrupt whatever it is he's doing with the stones, he'll be drawn back.

She hums. "Or he might retreat further. He's old, and the Daedric Princes used to be even more active - he'll know to fear us."

"This body is expendable; we could go after him."

"It might allow him to strike back? Or attack us mentally. But - Hermaeus isn't one of the ones that can easily manifest outside his Realm, which suggests a shorter reach. I suspect we'll have an uphill battle but it won't be - any permanent damage."

"Well, you are the native. I will defer to your judgement here."

She laughs a bit. "Man, I think good judgement is the exact opposite of what I have. But, sure, let's go tell Hermaeus Mora to stop being such a dick to his face."

"The decision is boldy made, which is the main point. I suppose we must open the book?"

"I think I can get us across just holding it, though opening it might help."

"If we don't have to open it, let's not. No reason to play along with this more than absolutely necessary."

"Absolutely."

She taps the book, hums, and the air twists, dark in front of them, spreading -

Until it clears. They're in a library, the shelves tall, reaching like skeletal fingers up to a glass dome with a dizzying depiction of some kind of void beast. The pages whisper, rustling angrily.

"Hermaeus Mora! Hermaeus Mora! You have visitors!" Glint shouts, cupping her hands over her mouth.

Certainly an aesthetic to have. Very eldritch.