Palla , volume 1 Content . Palla . Pal La . I remember when I first heard that name , not long ago at all . It was at a Tales and Tallows ball at a very fine estate west of Mir Corrup , to which I and my fellow Mages Guild initiates had found ourselves unexpectedly invited . Truth be told , we needn ' t have been too surprised . There were very few other noble families in Mir Corrup — the region had its halcyon days as a resort for the wealthy far back in the 2nd era — and on reflection , it was only appropriate to have sorcerers and wizards present at a supernatural holiday . Not that we were anything more exotic than students at a small , nonexclusive charterhouse of the Guild , but like I said , there was a paucity of other choices available . For close to a year , the only home I had known was the rather ramshackle if sprawling grounds of the Mir Corrup Mages Guild . My only companions were my fellow initiates , most of which only tolerated me , and the masters , whose bitterness at being at a backwater Guild prompted never - ending abuse . Immediately the School of Illusion had attracted me . The Magister who taught us recognized me as an apt pupil who loved not only the spells of the science but their philosophical underpinnings . There was something about the idea of warping the imperceptible energies of light , sound , and mind that appealed to my nature . Not for me the flashy schools of Destruction and Alteration , the holy schools of Restoration and Conjuration , the practical schools of Alchemy and Enchantment , or the chaotic school of Mysticism . No , I was never so pleased as to take an ordinary object and by a little magic make it seem something other than what it was . It would have taken more imagination than I had to apply that philosophy to my monotonous life . After the morning ' s lessons , we were assigned tasks before our evening classes . Mine had been to clean out the study of a recently deceased resident of the Guild , and categorize his clutter of spellbooks , charms , and incunabula . It was a lonely and tedious appointment . Magister Tendixus was an inveterate collector of worthless junk , but I was reprimanded any time I threw something away of the least possible value . Gradually I learned enough to deliver each of his belongings to the appropriate department : potions of healing to the Magisters of Restoration , books on physical phenomena to the Magisters of Alteration , herbs and minerals to the Alchemists , and soulgems and bound items to the Enchanters . After one delivery to the Enchanters , I was leaving with my customary lack of appreciation , when Magister Ilther called me back . " Boy , " said the portly old man , handing me back one item . " Destroy this . " It was a small black disc covered with runes with a ring of red - orange gems like bones circling its periphery . " I ' m sorry , Magister , " I stammered . " I thought it was something you ' d be interested in . " " Take it to the great flame and destroy it , " he barked , turning his back on me . " You never brought it here . " My interest was piqued , because I knew the only thing that would make him react in such a way . Necromancy . I went back to Magister Tendixus ' s chamber and poured through his notes , looking for any reference to the disc . Unfortunately , most of the notes had been written in a strange code that I was powerless to decipher . I was so fascinated by the mystery that I nearly arrived late for my evening class in Enchantment , taught by Magister Ilther himself . For the next several weeks , I divided my time categorizing the general debris and making my deliveries , and researching the disc . I came to understand that my instinct was correct : the disc was a genuine necromantic artifact . Though I couldn ' t understand most of the Magister ' s notes , I determined that he thought it to be a means of resurrecting a loved one from the grave . Sadly , the time came when the chamber had been categorized and cleared , and I was given another assignment , assisting in the stables of the Guild ' s menagerie . At least finally I was working with some of my fellow initiates and had the opportunity of meeting the common folk and nobles who came to the Guild on various errands . Thus was I employed when we were all invited to the Tales and Tallows ball . If the expected glamour of the evening were not enough , our hostess was reputed to be young , rich , unmarried orphan from Hammerfell . Only a month or two before had she moved to our desolate , wooded corner of the Imperial Province to reclaim an old family manorhouse and grounds . The initiates at the Guild gossiped like old women about the mysterious young lady ' s past , what had happened to her parents , why she had left or been driven from her homeland . Her name was Betaniqi , and that was all we knew . We wore our robes of initiation with pride as we arrived for the ball . At the enormous marble foyer , a servant announced each of our names as if we were royalty , and we strutted into the midst of the revelers with great puffery . Of course , we were then promptly ignored by one and all . In essence , we were unimportant figures to lend some thickness to the ball . Background characters . The important people pushed through us with perfect politeness . There was old Lady Schaudirra discussing diplomatic appointments to Balmora with the Duke of Rimfarlin . An orc warlord entertained a giggling princess with tales of rape and pillage . Three of the Guild Magisters worried with three painfully thin noble spinsters about the haunting of Daggerfall . Intrigues at the Imperial and various royal courts were analyzed , gently mocked , fretted over , toasted , dismissed , evaluated , mitigated , admonished , subverted . No one looked our way even when we were right next to them . It was as if my skill at illusion had somehow rendered us all invisible . I took my flagon out to the terrace . The moons were doubled , equally luminous in the sky and in the enormous reflecting pool that stretched out into the garden . The white marble statuary lining the sides of the pool caught the fiery glow and seemed to burn like torches in the night . The sight was so otherworldly that I was mesmerized by it , and the strange Redguard figures immortalized in stone . Our hostess had made her home there so recently that some of the sculptures were still wrapped in sheets that billowed and swayed in the gentle breeze . I don ' t know how long I stared before I realized I wasn ' t alone . She was so small and so dark , not only in her skin but in her clothing , that I nearly took her for a shadow . When she turned to me , I saw that she was very beautiful and young , not more than seventeen . " Are you our hostess ? " I finally asked . " Yes , " she smiled , blushing . " But I ' m ashamed to admit that I ' m very bad at it . I should be inside with my new neighbors , but I think we have very little in common . " " It ' s been made abundantly clear that they hope I have nothing in common with them either , " I laughed . " When I ' m a little higher than an initiate in the Mages Guild , they might see me as more of an equal . " " I don ' t understand the concept of equality in Cyrodiil yet , " she frowned . " In my culture , you proved your worth , not just expected it . My parents both were great warriors , as I hope to be . " Her eyes went out to the lawn , to the statues . " Do the sculptures represent your parents ? " " That ' s my father Pariom there , " she said gesturing to a life - sized representation of a massively built man , unashamedly naked , gripping another warrior by the throat and preparing to decapitate him with an outstretched blade . It was clearly a realistic depiction . Pariom ' s face was plain , even slightly ugly with a low forehead , a mass of tangled hair , stubble on his cheeks . Even a slight gap in his teeth , which no sculptor would surely have invented except to do justice to his model ' s true idiosyncrasies . " And your mother ? " I asked , pointing to a nearby statue of a proud , rather squat warrior woman in a mantilla and scarf , holding a child . " Oh no , " she laughed . " That was my uncle ' s old nurse . Mother ' s statue still has a sheet over it . " I don ' t know what prompted me to insist that we unveil the statue that she pointed to . In all likelihood , it was nothing but fate , and a selfish desire to continue the conversation . I was afraid that if I did not give her a project , she would feel the need to return to the party , and I would be alone again . At first she was reluctant . She had not yet made up her mind whether the statues would suffer in the wet , sometimes cold Cyrodilic climate . Perhaps all should be covered , she reasoned . It may be that she was merely making conversation , and was reluctant as I was to end the stand - off and be that much closer to having to return to the party . In a few minutes time , we tore the tarp from the statue of Betaniqi ' s mother . That is when my life changed forevermore . She was an untamed spirit of nature , screaming in a struggle with a misshapen monstrous figure in black marble . Her gorgeous , long fingers were raking across the creature ' s face . The monster ' s talons gripped her right breast in a sort of caress that prefaces a mortal wound . Its legs and hers wound around one another in a battle that was a dance . I felt annihilated . This lithe but formidable woman was beautiful beyond all superficial standards . Whoever had sculpted it had somehow captured not only a face and figure of a goddess , but her power and will . She was both tragic and triumphant . I fell instantly and fatally in love with her . I had not even noticed when Gelyn , one of my fellow initiates who was leaving the party , came up behind us . Apparently I had whispered the word " magnificent , " because I heard Betaniqi reply as if miles away , " Yes , it is magnificent . That ' s why I was afraid of exposing it to the elements . " Then I heard , clearly , like a stone breaking water , Gelyn : " Mara preserve me . That must be Palla . " " Then you heard of my mother ? " asked Betaniqi , turning his way . " I hail from Wayrest . practically on the border to Hammerfell . I don ' t think there ' s anyone who hasn ' t heard of your mother and her great heroism , ridding the land of that abominable beast . She died in that struggle , didn ' t she ? " " Yes , " said the girl sadly . " But so too did the creature . " For a moment , we were all silent . I don ' t remember anything more of that night . Somehow I knew I was invited to dine the next evening , but my mind and heart had been entirely and forever more arrested by the statue . I returned back to the Guild , but my dreams were fevered and brought me no rest . Everything seemed diffused by white light , except for one beautiful , fearsome woman . Palla .