Before Septima Tharn somehow managed to break into the Chamber of Passage with her prisoner, no living mortal had set foot in the passageway between between Nirn and the Far Shores. But now I too have arrived, too late however, or just in time depending on perspective, as I witness Tharn thrust her dagger deep into High King Emeric and retreat through the portal into the eternal realm.
The King is dead.
I watch his reluctant spirit forsake his corpse and follow his murderer into the afterlife as if tethered by fate. They say that a trap is only a trap if you don’t know about it, and yet I know this is certainly a trap, but there is no going back, and I can do no more now but follow hard upon.
Any man who says he does not fear death is either lying, or already without a soul.