As though being formed from nothing more than memories and will the shapes condensed out of the fog, growing some semblance of outlines as they moved in from all sides. I counted five, then six figures rising from their tombs and striding forward to face me on either side of the vault, until the seventh appeared out of the mist swirling in the centre of the wall and closest to the few stairs leading up to the basement. I was surrounded, and trapped but I couldn't help but watch as the ghostly figures gained more and more form until I began to recognise some of their shapes.

  It started off slowly at first. A chain mailed forearm here, bonemold greave there, impressions of facial features growing stronger and thicker with more substance until I found myself standing face to face with seven armoured, armed and long-dead knights in all their finery. Surcoats and tabards were flapping silently in a ghostly breeze that I could not feel, armoured gauntlets and mailed fists hanging loosely by their sides and seven sets of eyes bore into me with uncompromising determination.

  There were three standing to my right, and four to my left, all watching me and only me. I didn't dare to move a single muscle, nor did I reach for Sunchild clasped to my hip lest they break their strange statue-like stillness of the grave and attack.

  "Viconia?" I hissed between my teeth, not allowing my gaze to leave the sight of the ghosts.

  "I'm working on it."

  Appearing from the armour stand's alcove, the eighth and final ghost appeared, striding from the very wall itself and I noted how this one and this one alone didn't appear directly from a tomb. There were seven tombs and seven tombs only and this knight, like all the others was dressed in all the accoutrements of war. A long sleeved chainmail habergeon hung down to mid-thigh, covering his entire torso including his arms and over this clung a surcoat of the purest white silk with a blood red diamond emblazoned on his chest. A broadsword was clasped firmly to his hip and a chainmail coif was resting firmly onto his head with the assistance of a simple nasal helm.

  As he moved forward the other nine bowed, each bringing a fist to their lips in salute to their fellow warrior as he stopped in the direct centre of the under croft.

  "By the strength and guidance of the Nine," the long dead warrior growled at me, eyes almost blazing with a combination of righteous anger and corpse-light. "who comes before us upon this sacred ground and dares desecrate it with their unworthy presence?"

  Desperate to buy Viconia time to break the wards I straightened myself up, almost standing to attention and trying but failing to look the ghost in the eye. "I'm Kaius Desin. Knight of the White Stallion."

  The ripple of unease through the assembled spectres was impossible to ignore, as was the way they looked between each other and more than one hand flexed towards a weapon.

  "A Knight... The world must have slipped far into decadence and chaos if a beast claims to be a knight. You are a creature born of sin and darkness. What make you think you are worthy to stand in the presence of the Cuirass of the Crusader?"

  A strange tingling sensation was creeping up the back of my legs and growing from my fingertips and I resisted the urge to shake it away. Through the transparent being in front of me I could see the armour stand, and knew with utter certainty that what lay on it was indeed another Relic.

  "Viconia?"

  "Give me a minute..."

  "I don't have a minute. Show them the Helm."

  Without turning even for a second, I knew all too well that Viconia had stopped her probing and feverish investigating of the enchantments within the tomb and had pulled the helm from its bag. Judging by the reactions of the ghosts it was one of the last things they were expecting to see.

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  One of them, an enormous warrior almost a full head taller than me stepped forward in his resplendent plate armour. Every inch of it was covered in Nordic runes, and the claymore than he dragged from where it rested against his spine was almost as long as I was tall. "You dare defile a relic of the Eight?" he spat forcefully and I couldn't help but flinch away at his building anger.

  "Torolf! Hold!"

  The Nordic wight stopped, greatsword held steadily in a gauntleted fist while the helm he wore turned between me and his commander.

  "We did not come to defile or steal." I said simply, trying and failing to hide the fact that my hand had fallen to Sunchild's hilt without conscious thought. "We came here to unite the relics."

  "Why should we believe you, daedra-spawn?"

  "If we were going to corrupt the Helm I doubt we would have dragged it all the way here to do so."

  "I think he is telling the truth." Added one of the ghosts to my left. There was no mistaking the unique style of the bonemold armour that it wore, or the sharp boned features of the Dunmer who was wearing it. "Perhaps he seeks redemption for his nature?"

  "Umaril is returning." I said simply, still seeking to buy time for both Viconia and myself. "If he hasn't already."

  At the Unfeathered's name they all twitched and looked between themselves with significant hesitation.

  "So you believe that with the darkness in your soul that you can unite the Relics and wield the artefacts of the Eight against their foe?"

  I shook my head. "I am not worthy to wield them, and neither is my companion. There's nothing stopping us from recovering them all for whoever is worthy though."

  Silence fell between us all and several of them were clearly deep in thought. Some, like Sir Torolf were itching to attack, to remove my presence from their final resting place at the end of their weapons. Others, like the ghost who had first spoken were standing in silence.

  "No unworthy soul shall lay hand upon this sacred artefact without the leave of the Knights of the Nine." He said after some time. "For the vows that we failed to revere in life, we shall uphold in death. You are tainted... Corrupt... A creature of pure sin and depravity and despite your supposedly noble intentions you have tainted one of the sacred artefacts of the Divines with your presence. We cannot allow you to pass without first testing you."

  Looking between the eight ghosts I tried my best to recognise them and their identities. Their deeds and accomplishments were legendary but none of the books had truly managed to capture their likenesses. Some like Sir Torolf who had been identified by his fellow knights were obvious, as was Sir Ralvas; the dunmer who had spoken partially in my defence. Their leader and the only ghost without a casket was Sir Amiel Lannus himself; his connection and faith to the order so strong that his spirit had come to rest hundreds of kilometres from where his body lay.

  His face was set in stone, framed in chainmail and covered slightly by the metal bar of the nasal helm he wore. The ghost was not clothed in the ethereal flesh of a sixty-year-old man, but instead he looked as he had in his prime. If not for his spectral nature I would have guessed his age to be closer to my own, and it was the same for the others who had died later in their lives.

  "I am ready for whatever test you deem necessary." I said with a sinking feeling in my stomach even as the metallic ringing from behind me reached my ears.

  Viconia had been using Dragonbane to try to physically force a chink into the magical wall and it had slipped and dropped from her shock at my words. "Vel'bol?!"

  "Within your flesh is a demon waiting to be released and the man who fights against it daily." Sir Amiel said simply, ignoring the sudden bout of cursing that began exploding from Viconia's mouth. "Prove to us that you are indeed a man and not a monster. Prove to us that you have control and strength of will worthy of your title and you may live. The Cuirass is blessed by Akatosh himself and the more you succumb or call upon your taint, the quicker you will die."

  "So be it." I said simply, my hands moving away from Sunchild and my side and undoing the buckles and straps keeping my chest harness and pouches tight. As quickly as I could I shed everything that wasn't Sunchild and my armour, even dropping the sword's scabbard and belt harness to the floor with the rest of my equipment.

  Viconia's wordless scream of anger and frustration rippled through the room and I saw how some of the knights glanced in her direction. The surge of magicka from her left the air on the other side of the barrier howling as she exerted every ounce of her will into breaking the magical wards. With an implosion of power and a muted thunderclap the energies were sucked out of the air, throwing her back slightly as the wards dispelled her power and left the barriers fully intact.

  "I am ready." I said simply to Sir Amiel, who had taken his position in the centre of the hall and only a few metres in between me and the alcove containing the Cuirass.

  "Very well." He replied, looking around the collective group of knights who began surrounding me in a circle. "Prove yourself pure and human in victory, or be granted absolution in death."