Simon surveyed his surroundings: a desolate, frigid island, with thick, unyielding ice and snow, and distant, silent snow-capped peaks.
The two had flown east and west, north and south, for three days, and were now on an island, isolated in the vast ocean.
Not only was the boundless horizon terrifying, but the temperature here was so low it could freeze a ghost to death.
Harkon was only two feet tall now; having lost too many of his Bat Swarm clones, he was truly pitiful.
He could no longer create clones, or he risked sudden death.
Harkon himself had completely lost the will to resist, held by the Troll, dazed and with vacant eyes.
Simon lifted Harkon, bringing him to eye level.
Harkon's frail body gave the impression of a stray dog cowering in the wind and rain, so thin that his bones protruded through his skin, and he shivered uncontrollably from the cold.
A fine layer of sweat on his skin quickly froze into tiny ice crystals due to the low temperature, like a short, white down clinging to his skin.
As for Simon, the heat emanating from him was like a warm furnace; the low temperature could not make his body yield.
"Volkihar, Lord Harkon, do you know why I'm looking for you?"
"..."
"Your intuition is quite right, your damned intuition.
If your arrogance had allowed you to charge at me, it would have saved both our time, and you wouldn't have ended up in your current state."
Life suddenly returned to Harkon's eyes, even a vividness, and malicious light shot out from the narrow slits of his eyelids like two sharp arrows, as if to pierce the Troll with a multitude of holes.
Ah, hatred.
"You're not convinced? You thought your escape was absolutely correct, didn't you? Of course, it was very correct.
Hmm, this maddening headache, hahahaha, it's actually quite good.
It's been a long time since I've felt this free.
"All this time, my rationality has been like thick mud encasing me, making me feel constrained, even my happy emotions felt fake.
I think you can understand this feeling, right?
As an owner of power, one isn't even allowed to have one's own expressions, because power itself is a puppet on a stage play, every action bound by rules..."
"What the hell do you want to say?" Harkon's voice emerged from deep within his throat, low and cold.
Simon reined in his lengthy discourse; his rationality returned once more, erasing the myriad distracting thoughts caused by the invasion of demonic energy resonance.
"Sorry, my nonsense has wasted time.
Let's get straight to the point, before you freeze to death..."
"Harkon, you've heard of the 'Tyranny of the Sun' prophecy, haven't you?
By tainting an Elven arrow with the blood of a Daughter of Coldharbour, and then firing the tainted arrow at the sun with Auriel's Bow, it can be assimilated into a corrupted, blood-red sun.
The world will plunge into eternal night, at which time Vampires can walk openly on the earth, and the world's order will fall under the rule of the bloodline."
Harkon pulled back his lips, revealing pale gums, their texture like white, waterlogged decaying flesh.
He did not answer Simon's question, only continued to bare his teeth, two rows of fangs with tiny holes, like a venomous snake.
It is said that creatures bitten by Vampires do not resist, but rather feel euphoric, sinking into oblivion under the influence of the venom.
Simon frowned; seeing Harkon's gums exacerbated his headache.
"Do you now have the courage to provoke me?"
"You want to know the whereabouts of my wife and daughter, don't you?
Heheheh, I know, but I won't tell you."
Simon regarded this fellow with a curious gaze.
"Do you think that will stump me?
Do you know what has become of your descendants?
They have all turned into obedient undead.
If I want to know anything, I only need to interrogate your soul.
Do not doubt the power of a Necromancer Master."
Harkon's face twisted, and he continuously seeped sweat.
"Come on! Come on!" he repeated, his eyes filled with courage.
Simon was quite surprised; this Harkon's personality was truly strange.
The Troll held the Vampire in his hand as the sun slowly sank below the sea, and the light of the stars and moon chilled to the bone.
Gradually, Harkon's body stopped trembling, and his skin was covered in a layer of white frost.
A gentle smile suddenly appeared on his face, and his eyes were no longer fierce.
Simon tossed his body onto the ground.
Harkon was dead.
...
The Vampire captives in the pure land were attacked by numbered undead and died one after another.
Their souls were extracted by the ubiquitous Soul-sucking Tapeworms, then diligently converted into their own kind by the undead, branded with mental contracts, and joined the numbered army.
Now the count had reached ninety-six.
The process of becoming an undead reshapes The Core, leading to memory loss.
Simon questioned these Vampire undead about Serana's sealing place, but no one knew.
...
The moon set, and the sun rose.
The humble body of the Vampire Lord was exposed to the sun for a day; the white frost on his skin melted, then froze into ice.
When the sun set and the moon rose again, the thin ice shattered.
Harkon bathed in the cold light, throwing his head back and screaming.
"Damn you, vile bastard, to make me like this!" Harkon roared in fury, feeling his weakened body.
He even felt like a hollow paper shell, his soul without any anchor within his body.
It was too painful, more painful than death.
"Damn it, damn it!"
"Who's damned?" A familiar sound of footsteps came from behind, and Harkon's face changed in fright.
The next second, he was lifted by the scruff of his neck.
The familiar face of the Troll appeared before him.
"It's you! Why haven't you left yet!" Harkon was so desperate he was almost in tears.
Simon smiled.
"I suddenly remembered that it would be too inhumane to leave a spirited opponent like you exposed in the wilderness, so after flying to Tamriel, I specifically came back to check on you.
I never expected, never expected, that we are truly destined to meet across a thousand miles.
If I hadn't come, wouldn't you, you clever little devil, have escaped?"
Harkon closed his eyes, completely deflated.
How did the first Vampire on Nirn come to be?
That was a very long time ago.
The earliest humans to migrate from the continent of Atmora to Tamriel were called Nedes.
They traveled south across Skyrim, reaching what is now Cyrodiil, and lived alongside the Ayleids, the Heartlanders there.
Later, they were enslaved by the Ayleids, and the intermingling of their races even gave birth to the Bretons.
At that time, there was no Dragonfire barrier, and both Daedra and Aedra could freely enter and exit Nirn.
It was during that ancient, wild period that a Nedic maiden named Lamae was raped by Molag Bal—not in a reproductive sense, but on a level of authority.
Molag Bal is the Daedric Prince of domination and enslavement, the Lord of Rape, the Harvester of Souls.
He has no mortal gender distinctions and is not a Daedric Prince of desire.
His rape of Lamae must have been a cruel act of abuse, causing her to enter a state of suspended animation, where her body died but her soul lived on.
The dying Lamae was found by some nomads.
Despite the nomads' care, Lamae still could not escape death.
On the day she was to be cremated, she awoke again and cruelly murdered the nomads who had saved her.
Later, these Vampires of Lamae's kind were called Daughters of Coldharbour.
Harkon's bloodline and Lamae's bloodline emerged at almost the same time, very ancient.
"Look at you, so much like that 'Blood Matron' Lamae Bal.
Rebirth after death, how interesting, how profound, truly the embodiment of a 'living corpse.'"
Simon's smile was exceptionally gentle, making Harkon feel as if he had fallen into an ice cave.
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