Point Me At The Skyrim (Ward x Elder Scrolls)

[Ridtom]

SPOILERS UP TO INFRARED 19.2! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!

Who is Victoria Dallon?

by Senviva

Light 1.1​

⊙​

"Bath time!" a cheerful voice emanated from nowhere and I felt my hearts still.

No, no they couldn't make me go. I had power, I had skills, I had experience. They couldn't make me go, not like this, not right now, not ever.

"No fuss no muss," said the voice as faceless men and women appeared on either side of me. Green and black muck spilled from their faces as they began to drag me down the aisle, despite my desperate cries and frantic struggles. No arm reached them, none of my teach latched onto their necks, and my aura only made them vomit out more muck. Sometimes a bone would go with it. Cat, dog, human skeletons were littering the floors.

I struggle and strained as we appeared in the cube, the despot of despair, the shower stall where I was laid bare. I cried as their limbs took hold of me, thin and prodding hands digging into excess flesh, feeling pain despite the fact that is was only cloth they tore from.

I was exposed once more and I couldn't escape myself.

The staring and commentary began.

"Poor thing."

"Stronger than she looks."

"So hard to look at."

"Can we be done here?"

"Are you going to fight me again?"

"Do I have permission to clean you there?"

"Can you feel this?"

"Your Dad couldn't make it."

"Your Mom couldn't make it."

"Your sister and boyfriend are here to see you."

The showers turned on, the rush of water drowning out the voices and washing away the staring faceless helpers..

My fingers on my right hand were carving against the bathroom stall, digging into concrete and feeling the water and dust roll off me with a sensation beyond touch.

My other right hand slammed into the tile floor, trying desperately to crush the reflection in the water.

Useless. Faces to the left and right of me would haunt me, expressions and features so familiar but... different. Expanded, detailed, twisted. Dead inside.

The water was cold, freezing, and my power was useless in keeping it out. I tried to scream, to rend this reality with just the force of my lungs, but this monument of desire could only translate this rage into a guttural moan.

'I'm so cold. Always cold. It can't just be the water.'

A knight in gunmetal gray stood to my left, docile limbs, unmoving but always there. I wanted him to be comforting but all I got was distance.

A cowardly woman cloaked in red was trapped to my right side, mewling, always out of reach of my rending limbs. I wanted to erase her existence, but it felt like she was getting closer and closer.

'I want to end my existence. Ours.'

Above me, taking up an eternity of ceiling and space and time, a weak and tiny fragment of something greater looked down on me with adoration and glory. There was comfort there that the Knight could give, safety that the foolish woman would never compromise, but to reach out to this tiny giant was to compromise something that I couldn't articulate.

'Ours.' The thought was both of us, thinking in sync.

Below me, taking up eons of tile and sustaining itself within an abyss of knowledge, an all-seeing and all-craving being of something older watched me with curiosity and hunger. There was nothing comforting in the Knight, only the obsession of the feeble traitor sister, and to look too deep into this well of desire was to give up all that was I and Ours.

"Mine." The deliverance was none of Ours, solely it's own.

Within that abyss, crawling languidly into life were an infinitum of tentacles and soulless eyes, reaching up and up and up and wanting Me. Us. Ours.

Behind that space and time, piercing through with urgency and care were the multi-limbed light-essence of my partner, grasping and shielding Me. Us. Ours.

Between both beings beyond my existence, I felt torn- shattered- separated- protected- whole- together-

Was this how things were set to be for eternity?

The way things were now?

A thought, one that was all too familiar.

⊙​

"F-Fuck that."

My eyes opened and I immediately regretted it. Biting cold stung my eyes, causing me to wince, feeling as if I had drunk an entire bottle of tequila without something to chase it down.

That was a basis in fact, a side-note in my every embarrassing high-school state of mind, trying to impress the very handsome Dean Stansfield at one of countless high-school parties. Of course, back then it was simply light itself that made me wish I could destroy my own eye-sockets, rather than this offensive cold.

A shuddering breath escaped me, and I could feel my lips crack. I kept my eyes closed, focused on my breathing.

I took a moment to center myself, feeling the cold radiate across my body, goosebumps rising up in flesh that was sculpted to be similar to my own. There were too many sounds; creaking of wood, birds in the distance, maybe running water? Too much to take in at once, but if I could piece together what was what, I could-

"Hey, you. You're finally awake." A gruff voice spoke up, interrupting my thoughts.

"You were trying to cross the border right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

I blinked, slowly, carefully trying to find the voice without hurting myself in the process. "Ambush? Who-"

A bump sent me sliding slightly, my back slapping against what felt like a short wooden barricade. I instinctively reached out for a handhold, something to keep me upright, and was further shocked to find that moving one arm dragged the other with it.

It was a flash of panic, a memory given vividness despite my lack of clear sight, of trying to move my hands to reach out to her and finding my control lacking. Confused and ripped away from myself. Every day a struggle to perform even basic tasks like typing on a keyboard or tugging at my braided hair.

"Damn you Stormcloaks!" A voice to my right, "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy."

Full of vitriol, I wouldn't have been surprised if they literally spat the words out.

Ignore them. Look at your hand. Focus. Piece these things together. Be the badass you know you are.

"If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and be half way to Hammerfell!"

Slowly, always slowly, I raised up my right arm. Felt that pull that brought my left with it. I stamped down on the fear, ignored my heart hammering in my chest, and moved my left arm as well. Moved them both.

There. A delay. Different sensations. A rocking motion set me sliding slightly again.

Am I in a car?

I brought my hands in front of me, strained my eyes. A rope. A knot to be specific, tying my wrists together. I opened and closed fists, even as I fought back tears in my eyes, relief overflowing my senses. The scars on my hand and right arm were apparent. Mine.

Mine.

"You there." I turned, eyes wide now. A man bound in ropes like I was sat diagonally from me, face scrunched up and nostrils flaring. His black hair was unkempt, and by my estimate, hadn't been washed in days. His clothing could barely be called such, like if something stitched together a potato sack and gave it openings for limbs.

When he spoke, he spoke with a fervent anger, "You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants!"

The voice who had spoken to me the first time, to my left, "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

"Shut up back there!" Another man. Too many sounds.

I rubbed my eyes, feeling the headache pulse.

I glanced at the original speaker. A muscular man, easily filling out his chainmail costume, adorned with what looked green cloth in this dreary weather. His hair was should length and dark-blonde, a trimmed beard gracing a sharp face. He was watching the other man - the "thief' - with an expression I couldn't read. The man who shouted was so close I could literally touch him if I wanted, his back to me as they drove... not a car, but a carriage.

Now I could smell it. Horses and their waste, just like those times Aunt Sarah would drag us along to stables outside the city for short vacations.

I'm in a carriage, hands bound, surrounded by people I don't know talking about things I don't understand and I'm fucking freezing.

Figure this out Victoria, Glory Girl, Scholar, Warrior, Monk, Antares. Figure this out.

I looked down at myself. My costume was gone. Replaced with the same rags as the "thief", frumpy potato sacks with no sleeves and pant legs that barely reached my ankles. No buttons either, exposing more chest than I had done comfortably in years. Boots that I had scrounged a literal apocalypse for were gone and replaced with worn-out leather sandal slash slipper hybrids.

Someone had taken my stuff. Had undressed me, after ambushing me apparently, and taken me away from my teammates. Even my connection to Kenzie was gone, if not one of my blinks had activated her implanted eye-camera.

All while the world was suffering from it's second apocalypse?

Something is wrong.

I stood up in the carriage, my flight keeping me stable as the vehicle trotted over the bumpy path.

Are you there, old friend?

The man to my left looked up at me with curious eyes, "Take a seat lass, do not give your life in vain now-"

I felt my forcefield respond as I pulled against my bonds, tearing apart the rope like a string torn between two moving trucks.

Hello there. Had me worried Fragile One.

The driver glanced back to me, his expression one of shock and surprise, "What in the Divines are you doing-"

I took off, flying straight up into the air and through the mist. I was still cold, my forcefield unable to warm me up, but it was able to keep the chill from outside at bay. I experimented as I flew up, clenching hands, moving faces, and opening mouths. I rotated the field, feeling an equal measure of relief and anxiety as it responded.

Master-Stranger Protocols were in effect. There were too many variables and too many questions with too few answers.

When would they have had time to target me, plan this out to remove me from the field, and then carry it out during the Titan attacks?

How did they get past any Thinkers, my team, taken me by surprise,, and removed Kenzie's tech in the frantic moments of our constant rush from battlefield to battlefield?

Where could they have taken me that was beyond Warden or allied supervision in such a short amount of time, while I was surrounded by allies, and through various checkpoints between Earths?

The short answer was that they, he or she or them, couldn't.

My best guess was a Stranger-Shaker. My surroundings might be different from my last recollection of the battlefield, but the power effect warped it further to the point that imaginary scenarios were being filled out by some combination of my consciousness and their power. It could even be that this simulation was taking place while I was unconscious. Rain had mentioned a cape who invaded dreams and the Wardens had one who was dwelving into minds for Stranger Titan victims...

My heart sank.

I had blasted a hole into the section of the Shardspace, cracks in reality that led to the foundations of where powers belonged. I didn't recall much after that, but I did recall that the Stranger Titan had landed near me and had been regaining it's powers as I dived for my gun.

Is this it? My mind separated from reality, perhaps permanently, while my Team has to fight for themselves? My heroes left to the wolves? Those civilians left without a guardian?

Care to chime in there my ever-so-quiet friend?

Nothing.

Okay.

Fuck.

A cold entirely unrelated to my state of dress and the air around me took hold of my self. I glanced around me, seeing water sleeking off my many faces like slick glass. I had to look for cracks, pieces of this supposed reality that didn't fit. A fucking mountain of an obstacle when my surroundings where so alien, when my headspace was so fucked, and my heart had fell to a place somewhere around the bottom of my gut.

I pierced the mist layer, finally free of it's confines, and found myself surrounded by a dreary grey sky. Cracks, tears in space-time, perspectives that didn't correlate properly, feelings of space around me that felt jarring compared to what I was seeing. I looked for all of these flaws, every sense I had available and what my Fragile partner would grant me held to bare.

Nothing. No cracks, no erronous feelings of space and relativity, no vertigo or dulled senses. The air was thinner now.

I'd reached out for a life-line and all I got was mountains. So, so many mountains, capped with pure white snow, peaking out of the mist. Here and there were pockets of forest and what might have been parts of a settlement.

I hung in the air, out of place in the dull scenery, and struggled to articulate the feelings welling up inside me.

Help me out here. Please.

A brief moment. The words shot out like bullet, "Fucking why?!"

 

[Ridtom]

Just in case we have Elder Scroll fans who don't know Ward but stumbled upon here somehow:

Antares (Victoria Dallon) is a superhero from Worm/Ward, hailing from the Megacity of Earth Gimel, a Giant Megaopolis in the center of portals leading to different alternate Earths.

Her powers include: Forcefield, Aura, and Flight.

Her forcefield (at this point in time) is around 10 feet in diameter, made up of multiple limbs and torsos and heads etc. It's invisible, but Victoria has a psychic sense of its movement and she can manipulate it with her mind. This forcefield grants her super-strength and durability, to an extent.

When she was weaker she used to be able to lift 14 tons, now she can kick cars 20ft through the air, tip over semi-trucks, and throw coins as hard as bullets.

Her durability allows her to take any hit, but above a certain threshold of power the forcefield will pop almost right after impact. However, if it is a continuous attack, her forcefield stays up far longer but will take longer to reform. For example, a bullet will pop the forcefield, but a stream of water will slide off harmlessly. She can bend the rules by spinning her forcefield really fast, making it so that her power thinks it's a continuous attack.

She's recently shown adept use of weapons with her forcefield limbs.

Her aura basically makes her radiate out Fear/Awe, with her being able to control both the range (from skintight to at least a large building in size) and power (ambient discomfort to complete mental paralysis for a moment). It mostly radiates fear now, but it really does depend on people's mental wiring. She's resistant to emotional manipulation as a result.

Her flight allows her speeds of 100+mph and no sense of vertigo. In fact, she's able to detect subtle changes in air pressure if she pays attention, and she highly maneuverable in tight spaces.

It should be noted that her power is sentient and sapient, which she calls the Fragile One, who tries to help her as best she can with its limited capabilities. They have a pretty good relationship, if a bit of an idolization of Victoria by the Fragile One.

Skill wise, she's an adept H2H fighter even without her forcefield, using flight to perform super grappling. She's a fairly good shot with a rifle (though she hates most guns), and she's studied powers for as long as she can remember, literally creating her own personal library of secret information

 

[Ridtom]

Light 1.2

⊙⊙​

I dipped back to the Earth and heard shouts of frustration. Loud, angry, panicked.

I was silent as I dropped, my flight lacking the whoomph and flutter that many old films had for the heroes back in the day. More than once I had made use of it as a means to silently approach or ambush an unwary foe who had let their guard down. This scenario wasn't too different, although the line of ally and foe hadn't exactly been drawn in the sand yet.

My hands toyed with my hair as I rubbed my arms, feeling goosebumps from the chill. I hadn't noticed when I had taken off, but even my hair had come undone when I had awoken. Like someone had taken their fucking time to put me in the worst headspace possible.

Intrusive thoughts abounded, almost tripping over themselves. Loud, angry, panicked.

Focus on the hair. Is she improving?

Hard to say. There weren't any bands or scrunchies to keep the hair in place, so my friend was limited to braiding and unbraiding it, like a child might practice with their mother. From what I could feel - both hair and forcefield wise - there was maybe a weaker degree of shakiness as it went back and forth over the motions.

Despite myself, a smile made it to my face. My mom had let me practice on her, once. After the resulting disaster, she had delegated Amy to the task of being the dress up doll.

The smile fell.

Maybe don't focus on the hair.

I felt like an absolute wreck. And I really wanted to wreck someone else's shit for that. Preferably those responsible, but beggars couldn't be choosers when it came to fucking up monstrous villains. Even a Titan would be nice, right about now.

At least then it'd be a cold comfort.

The voices grew loud enough that I could make out some words now, and I oriented myself to better aim my descent towards them.

"...heads for this! You should've made better preparations!"

"Better preparations? We had no idea the waif was a mage! She was bound and cuffed after a simple clubbing, never got the chance to display her magics."

"Only a fool would think Ulfric Stormcloak wouldn't have such a trick hidden up his sleeves! Fools, all of you."

There was the sound of feet hitting dirt, metal clanking. Movement.

"You find this funny, Ralof?"

It was a voice I recognized that spoke up this time, "I find many things about this situation amusing Imperial. The fact that Skyrim is in the hands of such incompetence is not one of them."

More movement, a deep thudding sound, an impact.

Quiet.

"...like your traitorous Jarl. Get back on your horse Sevitus, we'll finish the transport to the execution, and then patrol the woods. No levitation spell could have taken them far, even with the morn on the horizon."

Well, he was right in a sense. I hadn't gone far and morning was getting closer, peeking through the mist in thin beams of gold.

Keywords; Mage, spell, club. Whatever they account for as a 'Mage' it's relatively common. Same goes for 'spell'. Those who thought powers were magic made up a decent population. In a primitive world, it's more than possible to play the role and take advantage of the populace.

I felt tension beginning to recede, reciting old statistics and popular cape talk. It lined up with the hypothesis of me being in a different universe. Over two-hundred Earth's had been breached according to Dragon's files, more than a few were hundreds of years behind my Earth's tech level. If I were to commit to this theory, then approaching these guys would violating more up-and-coming laws and citations than we had fingers with our collective bodies. I wasn't sure how that held up with reality potentially ending, but it was something to consider, if only to keep my mind occupied.

But the guard claimed to have clubbed me. How does that line up?

I had been thinking on the way down, trying to organize my thoughts and memories as best I could with my new situation. Hazy in the end, but I knew for certain that I was near my gun and the weakened but recovering Stranger Titan...

But there are no cracks in this fake reality. No sense of detachment in my movement or thought cohesion.

Would a fully powered master effect from a Titan even have the similar tells of a normal cape? Sort of a dumb question. Arachne apparently ignored Manton Limits in summoning her wires, while Skadi never showed the capability of teleporting inside or around Capes or Titans. Oberon was a similar example. Powers, even at their height, refused to easily fall into prim and proper categories.

What about you, friend? Last chance I think.

She was also not someone easy to place. Sometimes it felt like her pushes were overt enough to be a guiding hand on my shoulder. Sometimes I felt like she wasn't there at all, beyond the way my power expressed itself.

I really fucking needed someone here for guidance.

My hair dropped from my hands, a strand falling over my shoulder. I could hear the clutter of sounds as the strange men began to ready for travel, and my mind brought me back to those times where I had watched teens gear up for treks across the ruined multiverse. When had I first taken command of a squad? The third big patrol? The second? Both cases where I felt like staying behind and letting them go as they were would only leave me feeling regrets.

No. No more regrets.

I finished my descent, piercing the diminished mist barrier, making myself visible to the contingent of guards and prisoners below me. I didn't touch ground, keeping myself at least one person high, and cleared my throat loudly.

The sole guard on horseback turned to me, fast enough that his horse whinnied in protest. Ahead of him, my fellow 'prisoners', one of whom I only just now noticed was wearing a very high-quality fur coat, with plated armor that made me long for my own costume. Where his eyes narrowed in suspicion, the 'thief' wide in fear, it was the man who's voice I recognized - Ralof - who tilted his head in surprise; sporting a fresh bruise along his mouth, I noticed.

"Uh, hi-"

An arrow bopped my forcefield, snapping in half at the force of metal head meeting transparent alien energy, and my defense... didn't pop. I waited a moment, but the field remained, all limbs and faces now front facing towards the new threat.

The carriage driver, but not from my wagon. I hadn't noticed in the heat of the moment, but mine wasn't the only one on this road, nor was it the only one filled with prisoners. Most of whom wore the same armor that the snarky Ralof did.

Puzzle pieces were coming together, but I was admittedly distracted by my forcefield. I had known that it had changed, felt those changes in the fight against Oberon. Almost certainly would have died if some aspects hadn't shifted somehow, but without any immediate real threat nearby... it was a strange thing to process how the tolerances have adapted.

"You've got a lot of nerve Mage," the archer growled out, already knocking another arrow, "Come to rescue your treacherous leader I see."

I raised my hands up, placating, only to see the other guards flinch back. The other carriage driver pulled out a sword, while the one on horseback did the same, circling around me to flank.

Right, okay. Fuck.

"Look, there's been some sort of misunderstanding here. I don't know who these people are or-"

The archer let loose another arrow. It bopped the forehead of one of my skulls, breaking harmlessly apart as it fell to the ground.

"-where I am." I finished lamely.

The thief stood up, "Exactly! Me and her, we're in the same boat! Nothing to do with these wretched Stormcloaks!"

"Sit back down you low-life scum or you'll get an arrow to the back instead of the executioners blade! The former is far more painful."

The thief quietly sat back down.

"Powerful magic," the horseback rider commented, "Can't even see the Ward."

I glanced behind myself, keeping most of my attention on the archer, wary that the next arrow might actually pop my field. The rider was young, baby faced almost, but his body was well-defined, fitting into the leather armor well enough. It looked Roman, if the bits of history channel Ashley had made me watch were to be true.

The sword in hand, the intensity of his eyes, and the sweat on his brow betrayed his nervousness.

Sevitus?

"It's not..." I paused, thinking on how to continue. "Not a kind of magic that you're thinking of. Or that I am, I guess?"

The archer growled, "Ulfric is borrowing muscle from foreign lands now eh? Just when I think you can't sink any lower."

"Tough words, coming from the Thalmor's lap dogs," Ralof spoke up. "Although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at the Empire's hypocrisy. Not anymore."

"You'll die for those words traitor."

"No, Invictus. I'll die for my honor."

Okay, this is getting a bit out of hand.

"Look." I cut in before they could continue, "I'm just trying to ask some questions, because a lot of things aren't adding up about this situation and-"

Another arrow was let loose. An invisible hand caught the wooden projectile, the arrowhead inches from striking the field once more. A gentle squeeze snapped it like a twig.

"-And if you fire another arrow at me, I'm not going to be civil anymore."

I flared my aura, not nearly at full strength, but enough that the waves would reach the archer/leader. The horse-rider's hand began to shake, earning another concerned whinny from his poor stead as he widened his circle. The prisoners and Ralof took a share of the blast, unfortunately, and I could see how each of them shivered or shuffled nervously. The gagged man in armor seemed to be handling it the best, controlling his breathing.

The leader was at the edge of the effect, but coupled with my words he at least paused mid-grab for another arrow. Where the man I pegged as Sevitus was young, Invictus - if I presumed correctly - was... not old but harder. Long face, dark shadows under his eyes, and faint scar above his right brow.

Slowly, he lowered his hand and I lowered my aura.

"Okay. Good. Let me restate: I have no idea who any of you are and no idea where I am. Last thing I remember was... fighting in a city and then I woke up here, in some sort of mountain range? These aren't my clothes either."

Silence. The guards kept their eyes locked onto me, confused or not. Ralof continued to study me with an expression I couldn't place, while the gagged man appeared simply... curious.

"Alright, how about you just tell me how you found me then? What I was doing, wearing, anything? One of you mentioned clubbing me right?"

In the corner of my eye, Sevitus flinched. I zeroed in on him.

"Please. Lives are at stake right now. I need to know."

Nothing. Sevitus refused to look me in the eye, glancing between me and his leader, who simply scowled. I ramped up the aura slight, he and his horse both reacted like a hot poker had nudged them... but still they refused.

Fuck this-

"You were crossing the border," Ralof spoke, "Our group was seeking a passage through the mountains beyond Imperial patrols, but someone tipped them off. Ambushed us as we began to set up camp. You and the thief here-"

"Lokir," mumbled the thief.

"-Lokir, were hiding among the stables and found once the fighting broke out. I didn't see what happened to you exactly, but they dragged you to these wagons unconscious."

I flew closer, ignoring how the guards and prisoners shrunk back a bit, "And I was wearing this? These clothes in particular? They didn't..."

The leader, Invictus, growled, "Don't be ridiculous! To undress a young woman while she's unconscious, criminal or not, would be the height of dishonor. We caught you and the thief attempting to make off with the horses, and Sevitus dolled out what was needed to bring you to justice."

Ralof barked out a laugh, "To hear an Imperial cry about honor while a Jarl remains gagged and my face numb is a tale that not even the cheapest of bards would tell."

"We are honorable, not stupid. Ulfric has already used the power of the Voice to get his way. As for you... well, think of it as a taste of justice for all the good men who have died by your hand."

I clapped my hands, grabbing everyone's attention, "Sorry to interrupt, but let's not get sidetracked here. You said I was trying to steal horses? To ride with?"

"Obviously," replied Invictus.

Lokir looked up, "A crime that isn't worthy of an execution!"

A glare from Invictus had him shrink in on himself.

"Invictus," I said, "Don't you see the problem with this idea? Why would I need a horse?"

Invictus rolled his eyes, "Many reasons. We aren't fools Mage. We know that Magic has it's limits like anything else in this world, and prolonged use of a spell would leave you defenseless when you inevitably succumb to exhaustion."

Interesting. Something to file away for later, even if it didn't help me in the moment.

"Do I look like I'm exhausted? I've been flying non-stop for awhile now."

"Mhm. Could have drank a potion before the hit. Out of Sevitus's sight, burning through magic to bluff us. Or you could be one of the mad ones who eats wild plants in search of restorative abilities."

"A potion," I raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Of course, the simplest explanation is that Ulfric hired you from another land. A Nord mage who travels the continent isn't unheard of, especially one who works for the right amount of Septims. You couldn't leave him behind, so you stuck to horse-traveler or on foot if you needed to steal one."

"All of this," he gestured at the stopped carriages and prisoners, "Is to stay an execution, until you at least get paid."

I spent a moment thinking through what he was proposing. A lot of things weren't tracking, with how he described powers as requiring 'potions' and 'spells'. The closest I could think of was the vials of Shin, closely guarded by their government, and a few Capes who fell hard for the Magic angle.

Myrddin had been the most famous, often spouting magic related puns or giving words of wisdom as a Wizard, but it hadn't gotten in the way of his career as a Hero. To my best recollection, despite the criticism some fans threw at him, he didn't go as far as brewing actual potions or using cauldrons.

Speaking of... could this be one of their test bed worlds? Playing up the fantasy aspect while breeding powers?

Chilling. Horrific.

A gong echoed through the air, catching everyone by surprise. I felt the tremors of the air through my field, faint as they were. Like the air was shaking.

The gagged man, Jarl, seemed to perk up.

"Did you hear that?" Lokir murmured.

"Thunder?"

"It's not the season nor time of day for thunder," Invictus met my eyes, "Is it Mage?"

It took me a moment to parse what he was thinking, "You think I did that? I haven't moved an inch."

"You were gone quite some time in your escape attempt. Could have performed any number of rituals."

"If I wanted to escape Invictus, I would literally be gone right now." I pointed at myself, "And according to you, I'm apparently burning 'magic' as we speak."

"Enough coin from an ex-Jarl could make anyone loyal, Mage."

Fuck off.

"I don't have any money, I don't know who Jarl is, and my name isn't Mage. You can call me-"

Another echo, louder, deeper. The woods reverberated with it's presence and I felt it reverberate within my bones.

Jarl was trying to get Ralof's attention.

"There it is again!" Lokir cried out, "By the Divines what is that?!"

"A clever trick by a Mage with money on the line, clearly."

Frustrated, I pointed at Jarl, "If anyone know anything about this, it's the guy who's gagged and trying to talk to... Ray-loff right?"

At the mention of his name, he met my eyes, "Ralof of Riverwood, yes. Ulfric seems to be trying to warn me. Warn us."

Oh. That's who Ulfric is. Huh.

Invictus smirked, "And there it is men. A ploy to get us ungag the former Jarl for answers, headed by a Mage in his employ and one of his right-hand men. Clever, for the short time it took, but the game is over."

He turned his back on me, shouting, "All of you are going to be executed under the supervision of General Tulius! Skyrim will be at peace once more, and you will be footnote in the history of the Empir-"

The ground shook. Slightly, but it shook none the less, causing the proud man to stumble.

An echo - a voice - broke through the air. Through the woods. Through my forcefield. Through my bones.

It broke through me.

Everyone stumbled as the sky erupted into a deep and volcanic red, the clouds morphing and twisting to a will that I couldn't understand but felt spellbound to observe. The morning turned from a dreary gray to a vengeful crimson.

And then the sky began to fall.

 

[Ridtom]

Light 1.3

⊙⊙⊙​

I had been sleeping when the world first ended.

It was a rough week for me, having doctors perform new procedures to try and find a way to untangle the useless spinal cords wrapped around each other, without it potentially robbing me of what limited movement and action I had.

Which meant it had been a rough week for the handlers, trying to coax me into some measure of positivity, forced to withstand my animalistic bursts of fear when they would inevitably fail.

Which meant it had been a rough day for the visiting specialists who only had superficial knowledge of how things were being run inside the facility, even less so for every individual emergency.

The result was that when Scion betrayed humanity, I had been in a deep sleep of physical and emotional exhaustion, thankfully not dreaming. Thinking back on it, I wondered if I had woken up slightly to the earth shaking from his first few blows and then fell back to slumber, or if I simply added that experience in post.

In any case, I ended one day anxious on how my world could possibly be over with a botched surgery... and woke up to the world ending by a botched attempt at saving it.

No, that wasn't fair.

That was misplaced anger at being helpless while news and radio were alight with how the tallest buildings were crumbling down onto innocent people, bemoaning the fact I couldn't be with my family during this ultimate betrayal. To rescue those in dire straights.

To be a hero once more.

Balls of fire rained down from the sky like falling stars, streaking through air that seemed to have been made dimmer.

Not through the smoke and ash of the burning debris, but by the fact that the world itself seemed to have been overlaid by a cosmic filter. Trees shattered into a shower of splinters, the ground exploded into craters larger than myself, and the people below cried out in fear and pain.

Wish fucking granted Victoria.

It was too late for the front wagon, it's remains spread out along the ruined road like a burning carcass.

Hands that couldn't be seen with normal vision latched onto Sevitus, pulling him from his horse just as a flaming rock struck the ground at it's hooves. I spun the field around, keeping Sevitus out of range from shrapnel and burning flesh, feeling the edge of the explosion ripple across limbs, breasts, and faces with a sense that went beyond touch.

My forcefield dropped, and I felt the filtered air from within expel out and form a brief pocket around me, a fragile shell from the burning fumes of the forest. It didn't last long, the dry air bringing tears to my eyes.

Sevitus for his part was sent rolling into shrubbery, the momentum of my brief spin caring him away from the new flames before he came to a stop.

Dazed, he looked up me, as if searching for direction.

"Run!" I shouted, aura flaring briefly, "Deeper into the forest! Stay low and keep the tall trees and rocks behind you!"

He began to scramble to his feet, but I couldn't stay and watch after him. I had to trust he would at least consider following my orders.

There were others who needed me.

Ralof, Lokir, and the one called Ulfric were crouched behind the wagon, all of their eyes pointed towards the sky in fear. The driving horse had been maimed or killed, a patch of skin smoking and the reigns torn from the wooden latch.

Ralof kept a steady hand on Lokir, as Ulfric struggled with the gag using bound hands.

Invictus was nowhere to be seen.

Keep your wits about you.

How many times had Crystal and Aunt Sarah drilled the caution for aerial attacks into my brain?

I flipped myself over, the front of my body facing the sky as I dove towards the wagon. The clouds were spinning, moving so fast and forcefully that I couldn't imagine the risk of flying through them, even with my forcefield. Still, it seemed as though we were in a bit of a reprieve at the moment, with small pockets of meteors seeming to fall a short distance away.

Further down the road, the barrage of flames appeared to be far denser and continuous.

A roar filled the air as I finally slid beneath the wagon, feeling the coarse earth scrape up against my elbows as I dipped just a bit too low.

Fuck me, I missed my armor.

On cue my forcefield reformed, blossoming around my body, and I set my phantom limbs to the task of lifting the wagon off the ground. Not even in the top twenty heaviest things that I've lifted, even before my power changed, and the added dexterity allowed the primitive vehicle to remain steady as I flew above the trio of men.

All three looked at me with wide eyes. Lokir running his hands through his hair, snot and tears carving lines through ash that marked his face. Ralof seemed lost in wonder, but he had an appreciative smile on his lips.

Ulfric's eyes were hard as they took me in. They looked nothing alike, but the brief image of Gary overlapped with his own in my mind.

"Go deeper into the woods! I'll cover you!"

Ulfric and Ralof shared a single glance before taking off, Lokir stumbling in Ralof's grip as they picked up speed. I shadowed them, splitting attention to follow them and keeping the disposable wooden shield at my back.

The roar filled the air once more, and as distant as it was, seemed no less powerful.

What the hell is happening?

I had told them to run into the forest based on a hunch, the gut feeling that trees would be safer than an open road when it came to avoiding a threat that had turned four men and a horse into unrecognizable pieces. The canopy tops kept the descent of the meteors hidden, and the light snow of the fields slowed their run, but I felt that the trade-off would be worth it in our scramble to safety.

I was forced to reconsider as one of the great trees began to fall, the base of it's trunk torn away by a glancing blow of molten rock, tipping towards the fleeing trio of prisoners.

I soared towards the lumbering foliage, spinning the wagon around me fast enough that the wind was shaking the smaller trees nearby. High-speed wagon met forty-foot pine, the sound almost deafening on collision, my shield tearing in two.

But it worked perfectly. The tree bounced away from the impact and I followed it down, my forcefield in between it and my charges, holding the remains of the wagon for even a bit of added defense. Landing parallel to the party, I could see how the shockwave made them all stumble slightly, turning their attention to me as I flew back to meet them.

More meteors broke through the forest canopy, but they were definitely smaller and more spread-out. They weren't even coming down as consistent as before.

As if to mock me, two more fireballs burst forth from the canopy, twigs and branches offering no resistance as they came straight for us.

I spun the remainder of carriage around me, the build up lacking somewhat due to lack of time, but still sent the chunks of wood and metal bits soaring with a release of my hands. The rock demolished the chunks in a glorious explosion of flame, cascading out into the nearby shrubbery.

Molten rock slipped off of my field, tracing thin lines as I wicked them off, barely a focus.

I cursed as the second one broke through the cloud of ash, it's aim still true.

Risky to lose a defense now, but if I spun it just right-

FUS RO DAH

Even within my forcefield, the sound was nearly deafening, air shuddering against my forcefield. A wave of force echoed past me, tightly focused into a stream of power, unrelenting as it obliterated the rock. The power continued on, quenching fires from nearby branches and parting the canopy like an artillery blast.

Heart pounding against my chest so much it hurt, I turned to the group.

Ulfric stared back, breathing deeply. A torn gag of rags in his hand.

Powers.

Now wasn't the time for questions. Not yet.

The forest was dying, flames spreading from the top down, pockets of heat in the earth where the meteors had crashed through. Animals were fleeing the forest now, deers, rabbits, and foxes sprinting for their lives.

A thin-green figure was running among them, only to vanish past a tree in the distance, too far to make out completely.

Just more questions.

I flew down to the group.

"Thanks for the save! Do any of you know how far until we breach the forest?"

Lokir flinched, eyes to the ground. Was my hearing so borked that I had shouted that? Poor guy.

Ulfric nodded as he spoke, "Aye, around sixty paces from here. We could make it at a run, just barely, but only if these damned flames haven't cut us off first. You wouldn't happen to have frost magic, would you Mage?"

Ralof glanced my way.

His voice was deep and smooth, and despite the situation I felt a sort of familiarity in the way he held himself as he spoke to me. Carol had drilled it into me often enough, and I had practiced similar ways of presenting myself as a hero in the mirror of my home.

Standing tall even in the worst of situations. Failing to do so more often than not.

Still, he seemed exhausted, and I wondered how much of it was running in plate armor through a rough forest dusted with light snow, and how much of it was power related.

Barker had been a small-time crook before joining the Undersiders, with a similar vocal power, if not quite as focused. There had been reports that his power and voice got weaker with every use, till he was reportedly out of commission for a week or two.

A meteor crashed through, a lone missile that hit nothing of importance. A reminder that the danger was still very present, if lowered.

I floated in the midst of the three, "Frost or ice isn't really my move-set. But I can get us out of this forest. Sorry about this."

More than one voice spoke up to ask what I meant, and more than one voice cried out as my hands and legs gripped their armpits and buckles where they had them. Ulfric didn't pop the field immediately, and I took that moment to take flight through the forest, the cries louder in spite of the wind drag.

I wasn't moving all that fast, if I was being really honest.

Thirty miles per hour was a snail's pace when in such a deadly environment, but with the abundance of trees in my path and the size of my forcefield making me have to account for the narrower gaps in nature, it was better safe than sorry.

Still, even with those hindrances, the fire was steadily falling by the wayside and the sound of meteors just dull thuds in the distance.

It took only a minute to finally breach the forest proper, a small hill looking over a dirt road winding down the mountain side. The air here was fresh, no longer filtered in the oppressive grey and blood red of the road and inner forest.

I cast a glance back at the forest as I set my passengers down. Smoke was billowing beyond the tree-line, but it wasn't the deep black kind I was used to associating with heavy fires like Lung or Spitfire. As devastating as the initial shower had been, the snowy landscape and cold climate was doing wonders in preventing the fire from getting out of hand.

More ominous was the swirling clouds and red sky hanging over it, clashing violently with the calm grey skies on the outskirts. A power of some type for sure, massive in range and destructive capability.

A dark mass flickered through the red and grey, incredibly large, before vanishing completely. I only knew it wasn't a trick of the eye by the shift in cloud position as it had passed, and the faint roar from the sky.

I wasn't sure if it was distance or some other factor, but the twisted clouds seemed to be slowing down-

A retch broke off that thought, and I turned to see Lokir on his hands and knees. What looked like chicken broth spilled beneath him. I felt an immeasurable pang of guilt for this man I'd only just met minutes before.

It hadn't been a pleasant morning for him, and I probably played a part in that recently.

Ulfric was taking a deep breath of fresh air, staring off the mountain. Ralof knelt down next to the man, a strong hand on his back as smaller retching continued.

I floated towards the pair, "How's he doing?"

"Well enough all considered, much like the rest of us. Not many a man can say in this day and age to have soared through the air like an eagle."

Lokir retched some more, with sobs added into this new batch.

Ralof patted his back, "But perhaps.... a warning for the future? My stomach is made of iron for eating, not sudden flights above our earth."

I grimaced, but nodded, "Fair enough. It was a rushed call, I'll admit to that. I really, really, am sorry about that."

"Apologies are unneeded." Ulfric glanced back my way, "You've saved our lives with your quick thinking, and thus the life of a movement in our homeland. You have my gratitude, fair Mage. Say only the word, and I shall return your favor."

"Perhaps a start would be to finally learn her name." Ralof gave me a bruised smile, beard crusted with ash and snow, "Even I could hear your aggravation as our Imperial 'friends' kept calling you that title."

Well, now that it was time for it, I... honestly didn't know what to go with. Victoria was my name, as was Antares, as was the Scholar, the Monk, and Glory Girl. I don't even know what I was going to say to Invictus in the heat of the moment, and that felt honestly kind of terrifying.

I felt like I had been given a set of options that could determine more than just how people addressed me in this odd world.

I wasn't even seventy percent sure that I was Victoria Dallon. If I gave them that name, would it sound believeable?

What do you think Fragile One. Who do you think I am?

I let her unfold for a moment, released the control I kept on her actions.

Nothing.

A hand fell on Lokir's shoulder, not a rub, but just... there. He shuddered under the touch.

Okay.

I met Ralof's eyes, "You can call me Antares or Victoria. Either one is fine with me."

"....long enough." Lokir murmured.

Ralof interjected, "Victoria is good, a strong name. Yes, it puts in mind Victory."

Ulfric cleared his throat, "On the subject of friends. Victoria, it seems our brave and gallant Empire captors have made an appearance."

Ulfric turned from his view off the mountain, pointing further down the rough road.

Sure enough, Invictus and Sevitus were there, staring at our group but too far to read their expressions. Body language wise, their weapons hadn't been drawn, but both of kept their hands close to the hilt.

Invictus's bow was gone, I noticed.

Ulfric took confident steps down the path, eyes like steel and a voice to match.

"Let us see how much of their blood must be shed for our passage to freedom."

 

[Ridtom]

Light 1.4

⊙⊙⊙⊙​

I wasn't all that great a hero, if I was being honest with myself.

As Glory Girl, I had been exposed to some of the worst that Brockton Bay had to offer for quite some. I'd helped Carol and Mark raid factories where Lung had women imprisoned, making drugs while waiting to be sold off to individuals hidden from society by illegal and legal means. My cousins and I stopped several Empire initiations involving kidnapping and torturing minority groups, often young teens who were isolated. More than once I would fall asleep reading news reports of the growing drug epidemic plaguing the neighborhoods closer to downtown.

We'd all felt the heavy blow of losing Aunt Jess to a kid not that much older than my tween self.

As Glory Girl I let those feelings of anger and frustration fester, simmering just below the surface whenever I went out on patrol, and then vented those same dark feelings onto whatever poor and sorry criminal had pushed me too far. Those were the days of breaking people, leaving them on the cusp of permanent disability and near death, feeling that if I just hit a little bit harder, or be a little bit more brutal, I could physically rend evil itself.

As Glory Girl, I let the boy I loved and wished to marry die. Killed him by inaction.

As Glory Girl, I failed Victoria Dallon, opened her up to betrayal and to be trapped in hell for two years.

My goal as Antares was to right those wrongs I had committed, to make sure I would never let anyone suffer like I had, that I wouldn't needlessly and foolishly hurt people who didn't deserve it.

To live life without regrets.

As Antares I had allowed the Navigators to be chopped into mincemeat, undying and in agony. Nearly killed my own mother. Left at the mercy of a monster with the face of my sister. Byron had been brain damaged protecting me. Ashley, one of my closest friends, had been left to die alone. I had nearly killed my entire team with a rushed and desperate venture to the place where powers resided, not nearly prepared enough to deal with the beings who empower men and monsters.

I had failed more times than I could count and had more than a few new regrets.

Now, as a stranger in a world that may only exist in my head from a totally fucked power, I had to wonder if this was another failure as a hero on my part. That I hadn't passed some secret mental test, a potentially new regret for not being at the top of my game one hundred percent of the time.

I had saved prisoners and I didn't even know what crime they committed.

I was left slightly behind as Ulfric trotted down the road, Ralof following while half-carrying a wobbly Lokir, neither one of them commenting on what he had just said.

Neither had I, come to think it.

I floated forward, passing the limping duo, till I was side by side with Ulfric.

"Spilling blood isn't the answer here." I said.

Ulfric regarded me with a side glance, one snow encrusted eyebrow raised. He didn't sound quite as exhausted when he spoke, "You think Imperial dogs wouldn't stop us? That they would let us stroll past, knowing that my continued living means their eventual defeat? What lies has Cyrodiil been telling it's Nords?'

Well, that's a lot to unpack.

"I was hoping I was making it clear back on the trail that I wasn't... exactly from around here," I said. "This empire, it wouldn't happen to be Roman is it?"

He turned to me, slowing his stride slightly as he looked me up and down. It would have felt violating, had his face not been one of complete incomprehension.

Ulfric spoke slowly, "I haven't heard of a group of man named Roman, be it within the Empire, Skyrim, or the plains of Hammerfell. The Empire is a loose collective of various kinds of cultures, men, beast, and the mer... as unfortunate as that tends to be. Once, they were a mighty force who fought for the rights of man. Now, they are only a shell of their former selves, dogs for the Dominion's Thalmor, trampling over the Nords who have fought for them for centuries."

I thought back to what I heard in those frantic minutes, "And that makes you the Stormcloaks? That's why this Empire is after you?"

"Aye," Ralof spoke up behind us, "We fight for Liberty from the oppression we've faced for years now. And that be Ulfric Stormcloak himself. Not surprised you wouldn't recognize him, since you've probably only seen those horrid wanted posters Imperial patrols have put up."

Ulfric met my eyes, "I wonder about that."

Glad I'm not the only one.

I was really wishing Ashley had pressed a bit harder in getting me to watch those history documentaries with her. Nords were probably a reference to people of Norwegian descent, and I'm guessing by how I've been called one twice now, blonde and blue-eyed was a standard there. The clothing that Invictus and Sevitus wore seemed to be roman themed, but apparently they were just called Imperials from a place called Cyrodiil.

I had no idea what Mer meant or what Hammerfell and Skyrim were.

Things seemed to be pointing to an alternate Earth of some sort, which was comforting because it meant I wasn't rendered insanely suicidal in an alternate reality. Less comforting to consider the implications of how I got here in the first place.

One thing at a time.

I spoke, "Let me try to reason with them. We've all been caught up in something none of us expected, they've suffered heavy losses from the, uh, rain of fire just now. A truce right now does everyone good."

"I would agree with Victoria, Ulfric." Ralof huffed out a breath, "Not much fighting a man can do with our fellow prisoner in poor shape as he is."

Lokir let out a small moan at that, watery eyes glancing up at us briefly before falling to the ground.

Ulfric paused in his descent, looking over Ralof and Lokir, eyes roving over them much like they had done for me. I was really, really hoping he wouldn't voice the obvious counterpoint to Ralof.

When he turned to me, he looked almost upset at whatever realization he'd had.

"Are you a trained diplomat, Victoria the Mage?"

"Not exclusively, no," I ignored the annoying mage comment, "But it was part of my duties back where I came from, and I have some experience with handling these kinds of situations."

"And you came from-"

The sound of shuffling feet caught both of our attention.

Invictus was meeting us halfway. Sevitus followed shortly behind, constantly glancing between myself and the way back. My vantage point next to Ulfric wasn't the best, but it seemed like the kid was trying to peek out at something over the hill the road was built into.

Ulfric and I turned to face the soldiers, and they stopped, a bit over ten feet away. I could see the hands on their hilts now, sweat beading at their brow. Looking closer, Invictus's armor was scorched along his shoulder pauldrons, the leather black and curling up along the ridges.

You've got weapons, but Ulfric has powers that I don't know the limits of.

If shit hits the fan, will I be able to get between you guys without someone dying?

There was an awkward silence for a moment, as both sides regarded the other, and I found it a bit unfair that both sides took time to watch me specifically.

"Mage," Invictus spoke up after a long second, "I'm told that you saved Sevitus life with your magic. Is this true?"

I glanced at Sevitus, who stood up straighter under my gaze, chin high.

"Yeah," I said. "I couldn't help him through the forest unfortunately, but I moved him out of the way."

Invictus nodded, his hard face softening just a fraction, "Then you have my gratitude, and my boy owes you his life. May I have your name?"

I literally couldn't see any family resemblance there, but didn't comment on it. "Antares or Victoria, whichever one you prefer Invictus. Might not believe me, but I am glad to see you're both alright."

Sevitus did a short bow, "I thank you, my Lady. I truly do owe you my life."

I smiled at the sincerity, "It's really no issue. Any other hero would do the same."

Invictus's expression twisted, almost insulted.

I realized my slip up a bit too late.

"A hero you say?" And it seemed that he wanted to spit out the words with venom, "Bold words for the company you keep, Antares the Mage."

"Bold as they are, they are nonetheless true," Ulfric spoke up in my defense, "Victoria has single-handedly saved the rebellion, and thus Skyrim, from it's oppressors."

"She's saved a murderer and those who have killed good soldiers who only want the best for Tamriel, you vile traitor."

Murderer.

I clapped my hands, feeling a sense of deja vu as the men looked my way. I thought about how I could diplomatically piece this annoying puzzle together.

My mind went back to the nightmare that was the raid on Earth N. Having to lead Carol, Damsel, Rain in his fucked up mental space. What it meant to take charge for me.

"Fuck this."

Both men blanched at that. Sevitus held a hand up to his mouth, while Ralof's bruised grin beamed.

There was a small amount of satisfaction as I flew between the two men, watching them flinch back, "I'm really done getting interrupted while trying to figure out what the hell is going on, so I'm going to make myself very clear. I am not from here and I don't know how I got here. I don't mean this country or land or Empire either. I don't know what history you have with each other beyond what I just now learned from Ulfric, and what I can guess from your attitude, Invictus."

Said soldier sneered as I pointed at him, "What crimes is Ulfric accused of?"

Invictus eyed me warily, seemingly off balance by my assertiveness, "You truly aren't with him, are you?"

I shook my head.

He glared at the men behind me, "Ulfric Stormcloak murdered the High King of Skyrim using the Voice, his corpse now in pieces, attempting to rebel and secede from the Empire. He's been collecting like-minded scum to raid Imperial camps and take over cities, butchering the citizens who dare speak out against him. Many of the men I had trained and grown with have been slaughtered by his blade and voice both."

Fuck. I honestly didn't expect that.

Why couldn't these situations ever be simple?

I turned to Ulfric. He seemed entirely unimpressed, not even showing a speck of guilt at the supposed crimes he was being accused of, staring down Invictus with those steel eyes of his.

"I challenged the High King to a duel, Victoria." He met my eyes, "In the true Nord way, it was an equal and righteous affair, that he swore to uphold. It should be in his credit, with what little he deserves, that he faced me knowing what was at stake. I did use the Thu'um, this is true, but only to gain the high-ground to finish him off with my blade. As such, I have the strongest claim to the Throne, the rightful claim for the Moot, that his woman does not."

He looked at the duo with amazing disdain, "What your Imperial friend here forgets to mention, is that the Empire has been stomping out our worship of Talos, the god of the Nords."

Invictus barked out a laugh, "Really? You talk of oppression, but I've read the reports of what goes on within those walls of Windhelm. And outside of them."

Ralof looked stricken at that remark.

Ulfric scowled, "Tell me, dog, how many of my Nord brethren are being chained and tortured by the Thalmor that tromp over our lands as we speak?"

He turned to me, and his eyes were no longer steel. The whites were showing, the lines of stress along his face deeper with how the light of the day and from the fire crossed his expression, as if part of him glowed from within.

"Tell me, Victoria or Antares, our stranger from a strange land. What do you say now about passing without blood, when these truths are laid out to bare?"

Invictus and Sevitus tensed, armor crinkling as they reacted to 'blood'. Ralof looked torn, and I could see how he shifted himself so that Lokir was just behind him. The thief was white as stone, clinging to Ralof like a child would to their parent.

A sad sight, when he couldn't have been that much younger than my own father.

I raised a hand, bidding Invictus to pause as I floated closer to Ulfric.

"Did the High King have any abilities?" I asked.

"Abilities?"

"Powers. Magic is what you'd call it, or the Voice? Thumb?"

"Thu'um," he corrected. "No. He was once quite gifted the blade as young man, but he was not a Mage or Master of the Thu'um. His service as a puppet of the Empire left him rusted in skill and mind."

I nodded, taking that in, imagining it. Imagining someone with powers back home, someone like me, challenging a soldier to a deathmatch. I tried to picture how it would look to those who watched us, the mindset I would need follow through with using my power on them when all they had was a knife or bayonet to defend themselves with. Not for food or self-defense, but for a title of leadership.

I met his eyes, my expression painfully neutral, "I think we should part ways here."

His eyes didn't lose that fire, but I could see how that seemed to smolder the flames within a bit.

I turned to Invictus and his son, "Everyone here should. I'm not going to pretend to fully understand or approve of what I'm hearing, from either side, but it's clear that nothing is going to be resolved by us killing each other-"

A bit of a lie there. I had no doubt Ulfric would be capable of killing these two if I didn't act fast enough. No need for bruised egos to make things worse though.

"-And we are all rattled by surviving whatever just happened to us a few minutes ago."

"What happened," Ulfric intoned, "Was Dragons."

I turned to him, eyebrow raised, not entirely sure he was serious.

Joke or not, Ralof seemed to be as pale as Lokir was, hearing that from his leader. I turned to Invictus and Sevitus, and saw some measure of shock on each of their faces.

"Really?" I said, trying and failing to keep my disbelief in check.

"Do you not know of the legends of old?" Ulfric asked, sounding genuinely curious, "Your land must be a strange one indeed. Skyrim was home to some of the most powerful of the creatures, thousands of years ago, with their tombs and temples pocketing the land. Some thought them to be a mere myth."

"Okay," I said, "Or, like Invictus said, this is the result of a power. Someone else's doing rather than, uh, Dragons."

Invictus grunted, "Ulfric is a master of the Thu'um. The supposed 'tongue' of the Dragons according to legends. If he truly believes it's Dragons... then it could explain why Helgen is burning."

"No." Ralof stepped forward, horrified and disbelieving, "Can you be so sure?"

Sevitus spoke up, "If you keep to this road, you'll see the pillars of smoke and flame. I'm... sorry, Ralof, if you had family there."

Ralof shook his head, but didn't say anything.

Really? I thought. Was everyone really believing this?

"In any case," Ulfric looked to me, "It seems our paths diverge here, Victoria the Mage. I am truly grateful for your saving of our lives, and I hope that Talos smiles on your travels. Should you realize the folly of the Empire, find me in Windhelm. The Stormcloaks shall embrace you with open arms and help you in your goals as much as we can."

I nodded, still distracted, and not entirely sure what I could say to him that wouldn't be setting myself up for later grief.

He looked behind him, "Ralof, horse thief, to me."

Ulfric walked - no - strut down the dirt road, armor gleaming in the red light of the sky, fur cloak billowing slightly as he moved. For a split second, I saw Invictus in his way, eyes hard, and I worried that I would have to step in at the last second.

Invictus stepped aside, eyes never leaving Ulfric as he passed.

Yeah, okay. In that moment, with that lighting, I could see a 'King' of some sort.

Ralof and Lokir soon followed, Lokir keeping his eyes to the road as he walked on.

"I owe you my life, mysterious Victoria," Ralof spoke to me. "Should you ever wish for me to repay that debt, ask for the Cloak of Riverwood. They will know who to look for. In the mean-time, I'll be sure to give you a proper title to anyone who will listen; one that you hopefully won't find as troubling."

Despite the intensity of the atmosphere, despite everything I hard learned about these guys, I couldn't help but smile a bit at the sincerity.

"Just try to stay out of trouble Ralof."

"Trouble, I'm afraid, has infested Skyrim. Farewell, Victoria"

As he passed by the Victus couple, Ralof hesitated, before speaking up, "Your next venture is to Helgen, to regroup with your Legion, yes?"

Invictus was silent, but Sevitus nodded behind him.

Ralof nodded back, "Vilod of Helgen used to make mead with Juniper Berries, would sneak me and my sister some when his father wasn't looking. I know you owe me nothing. Just... keep an eye for him."

"We always keep the Empires subjects in mind, Ralof." Invictus said, "Best you keep a move on with that thief of yours."

Ralof just shook his head and continued his trek with Lokir in tow.

I waited for minutes as the group descended. Waiting for that feeling of regret to take root, and was almost worried when it didn't.

So I waited until they had grown small in the distance when I asked, "How much of what they said was true?"

Invictus huffed out a breath, "Not enough for my liking. Dragons... very possible."

"Mhm. And how much of what you said to me was true."

Invictus gave me a look.

"I woke up bound and in clothing I don't own, with people and places I don't recognize. You shot at me like three times. Don't give me an attitude right now."

"For what it's worth, Lady Antares," Sevitus piped up, "I am sorry about being rough with you."

I shook my head, "I honestly don't remember anything prior to waking up in that carriage. Doesn't even feel like what you are talking about is real."

At that, Invictus coughed up a laugh, "This whole bloody day doesn't seem real. Dragon's, a Mage using levitation openly and without any sort of exhaustion, Stormcloaks walking free men once more. My head will be on a pike once this spreads, Divine's will it."

I crossed my arms, "I notice you still didn't answer my question."

"Feh," he waved his hand, "As if you would believe what I said. Not as if I believe your hokey story about coming from a land beyond Tamriel either."

It was my turn to give a him a proper 'Are you fucking serious right now' look, one that I had honed to a craft.

A minute passed before he sighed, "Come with us to Helgen then Mage. As payment for saving my boy's life, you shall be treated as a free woman of the Empire. Ask my captain for his perspective on the damned Stormcloaks, assuming he still walks among the living."

I turned to where he had implied Helgen to be located.

It had to have been nearly fifteen minutes since I last checked the sky, but it was telling that despite the clouds stopping their rapid spirals, despite how the air had lost that overbearing grey filter, that the location of Helgen seemed to be a blazing scarlet in the distance.

Orange and reds were reflected in the clouds above, blending in with the haze of smoke to the point it looked more like a painting than a possible travesty.

"Alright," I said, "But we're doing this my way."

 

[Ridtom]

Light 1.5

⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙​

I remember the first day that I truly let loose with my flight.

It hadn't been when I triggered that day seven years ago. That had been a fib on my part, when I gave my first interview at our local news station, with my trigger event having been both public and tied to my family's fame.

I told the reporters, with the light from dozens of cameras and phones nearly blinding me, that the first day had me overflowing with emotion and spending all day soaring through the sky for as long as possible, and as fast as possible. It was a partial truth.

It had been emotional for me, but where I had implied that it was due to an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment, it was more that it was a war with shame from everyone who had been privy to my most pathetic moment and utter disbelief that my dream had come true so suddenly. That almost alien feeling of distance, when I looked down on the world from on high, knowing how small they were.

And none of them could fly up there with me.

No, that wasn't a time for fun.

It was moving place to place in uncertainty, barraged with questions from friends, then family, then Dean. Friends had wanted to know how it felt, how I had changed to be something more. My family had been all about my headspace, figuring out the tricks of my power and hugging me when I needed it most. Crystal was the one who had hugged me the longest, making me more ashamed of how ignorant I had been when she got her powers.

Dean hadn't said much in comparison, and yet he was the one who had me blubbering out all the fucked up feelings in my head after we finished kissing on that rainy rooftop.

Oh Dean.

Yeah, flying for fun didn't feel like a priority at first.

But once I flew on my first 'patrol'? You couldn't have kept me grounded with a ship anchor. The skies had become my domain, and I felt like I had no equal as soared above the city like a watchful guardian. Aunt Sarah and Crystal had tried to reign me in, the former because she had formations in mind and the latter because she liked pretend she was the fastest flyer in the family.

Honestly, I was fine with both.

Because in the skies, above the world and it's fucked up issues, away from my fucked up issues... I finally felt like a superhero. I felt safe.

I just wish my passengers felt the same way.

"Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down, don't-"

"Boy," Invictus growled, "If I hear another word out of your mouth, I will box your ears until I hear Stendarr himself tell me to have mercy."

Sevitus mewled, but was quiet, eyes pinched shut.

Invictus, despite his bravado, wasn't look too hot himself. His tan skin had gone pale, with goosebumps visible along his bare arms as we flew. Where Sevitus closed himself off from the sight, Invictus locked his eyes on the ground below, as if he was just waiting for me to drop them a hundred feet below.

A part of me wanted comfort them, to reassure the duo that I was in control and that there would be no accidental dropping. Another part of me was also still somewhat pissed at Invictus's attitude, and completely livid at my situation on this strange Earth. I felt like I couldn't trust myself to coddle them without snapping at them, like I nearly did with poor Switch, and I didn't think either of them were the hugging type.

Distraction.

"What am I going to expect, greeting wise?" I asked.

"Oblivion if I know," Invictus answered helpfully, "Depends entirely on who made it out of the attack. Divine's help us if we lost General Tulius."

"Divines," murmured Sevitus.

I nodded, "I've heard that name a few times now. He's the one at top? Your boss's boss?"

"He's Skyrim's Governor and spokesperson for the Empire." He explained, "Politically, he's up there with the late High King. Military wise, this isn't his first Strider ride. He's earned a reputation for being the one sent in when a situation has gone bad, during the Great War. It was his leadership that made Ulfric misstep and get sloppy. Losing him is a vital blow to our hold in Skyrim, something that Ulfric or those forsaken Thalmor would be more than happy to take advantage of."

"Whatever the case, best you let me do the talking, assuming anyone survived."

I bit my lip, thinking. Thinking back to the reports I'd read of Brockton Bay while I wasted away in the Asylum. The details that had been clarified by Dragon opening up classified documents to me, thanks to Citrine.

Director Tagg had been someone very much like General Tulius, in purpose if nothing else. He had climbed the ranks of the PRT command, seeing action in quarantine sites that seemed to hone his tactics in the future, earning a lot of rep with how he formulated strategies to dismantle Elite handholds in minor cities. Eventually that led to him taking over for Director "Lady" Piggot in Brockton Bay, which may have been a plot by Coil gone wrong according to Dragon.

I had my own feelings about that, but in any case, Tagg didn't last long before Alexandria went on her rampage and Weaver rose to prominence.

In between that whirlwind of events, I could imagine myself shining a light on questionable actions being taken in my old city. The increased armament of the PRT troopers, outing Skitter publicly within a school on the whims of Kid Cassandra, and the vague interactions he had with Skitter in his final moments. The man was meant to be hard-nosed, actively played that role against villains who wanted to use civility to their advantage, all the while being known for having a gentle hand with his heroes and underlings.

Maybe I was going down the wrong track, trying to equate these situations, where I am the outsider looking in without context.

It was Invictus who broke me out of my reverie.

"By the Divines!"

We had crested the hillside with my flight and a miniature Armageddon faced us.

A pillar of fire and smoke reached out to the sky like a drowning man in search of the surface, turning the sky a shade of red and blacks that brought forth dark memories about the Cracks back home. Below it stood the ruins of what I guessed to be Helgen, faint black skeletons of stone and timber bathing in the orange flames. As high up as we were, the crackling trees that surrounded the small village could still reach my ears.

The air was filled with swirling ash, even as I flew along the outskirts of the disaster, Invictus and his son were forced to cover their mouths and squint. I flew our little group further back and opened the mouth of one of my skulls, testing the heat to see if my unpowered passengers were in any danger.

Warm, but the naturally cold air had diffused it enough that it wasn't unbearable at least.

Invictus coughed as he spoke, "An entire Keep, gone up in flames before the sun had fully risen."

"I could go down there, look for survivors," I said, my eyes already roving over the giant pyre. "I'd have to set you both down, but I think I could wade in there safely myself."

He shook his head, "Don't bother. Helgen wasn't a Keep that had mages and men who could last long in there. Whatever survivors there are, they'd be with the regrouping Legion."

Invictus pointed off to the side, wiping ash out of his eyes with his free hand, "There should be a trail to the South-West and North. South-West leads to some open fields that they might take their wounded as a staging ground, although that might entice bandits or Stormcloak sympathizers. North would lead to Riverwood in the Whiterun Hold, which is more likely for them to travel. It's neutral ground for now, but that doesn't mean those two factors would be completely gone."

"Not to the East?" I asked.

"Not an option," he replied with a slight husk in his voice, "Too open to sympathizers and main Stormcloak camps."

Right, that made sense.

"I'll be lowering us a bit. Let me know if the ash gets too much for you and I'll slow down."

We flew on, circling the devastation as we did so.

The connection my mind had made from that scene to the apocalypse on my world lingered on. I had no idea if it was the Fragile One trying to direct me to a course of action, or if it was simply my desire to fucking leave and find some way to get back home.

Maybe it was neither.

Maybe it was both, as cautious as I was to give Tattletale credit on that front.

But that didn't matter right now.

On Shin I had been brought to a low that I never wanted to feel again, but I had also seen first hand what happened when people with power had abandoned their responsibilities to those who depended on them. I swore then to myself, that no matter how much I griped, I would never allow myself to make the same mistake.

I couldn't and wouldn't conscience myself to abandon people who were helpless and suffering, even if so far my only interactions with their representatives had been less than stellar. To do so was a failure to every aspect of myself that I took pride in, that constantly strived to become better than I once was.

No one to the South-West.

North...

"I think I see them."

"Aye," Invictus wiped more ash from his face, "That's what we're looking for. Stendarr has smiled upon us it seems."

Red banners dotted the road and nearby field alongside white-tents, the fog and residual drifts of ash giving the location a haunted appearance, despite the people moving out and about the ground. And there were a lot of people, easily about fifty from what I could make out from above, almost none of them simply staying in one place.

Scratch that, a few paused as they took note of our approach, before running into another tent.

"Remember," Invictus coughed out, "Let me do the talking."

He paused for a moment, glancing at me, "And stop flying when we get there."

I twisted my head, "What? Why?"

"Levitation Spells are illegal in Skyrim."

I was pretty sure both of my eyebrows were raised to my scalp.

"Never had a good time to mention it. Apologies."

"Well." I said, incredulous, "It's a hell of a time to mention it right now, when I'm literally flying over the camp."

"My Lady," Sevitus whispered, "Can you yell at my father on the ground? Please pardon my language, but I do not wish to vomit over our allies."

Oh. Right.

"Sorry," I said, feeling more than a little guilt at forgetting he was even here.

I lowered us slowly, mindful of Invictus' warning about 'Levitation' and remembering how I had been greeted with arrows by this very faction. We landed without incident, twenty feet away from the tents, and I gently deposited the two of them on the ground.

Sevitus immediately feel to his knees, head bowed to the dirt, spouting off murmurs that sounded like prayers.

"-ever giving us wings." I could make out.

Invictus sighed at the sight, before turning my way. I met his stare, then lowered myself till both feet felt the soil beneath-

Pain shot up my leg and I jumped up a bit, stifling a shout as I floated a foot off the ground.

"Fuck," I said, rubbing my ankle as I lowered myself back down. I was careful this time, gently pressing my foot to the ground, testing it. The pain was still there, but duller, and using my flight to keep weight off of myself dulled it more.

Right. Of course. I still had the scars on my wrist and arm, it only made sense that my foot was injured.

How fucked is it, I thought, That having this injury is almost reassuring?

Another strike against the power induced insanity at least.

Invictus looked concerned, "So you were injured in our escape. And still took the time to save my boy."

I shook my head, "Old injury actually. Forgot all about it in the heat of the moment. Nothing serious though."

He didn't seem all that swayed, eyes looking over my ankle and scarred arm.

"Really, this isn't crippling for me."

"If I've had to learn anything in my time with the Empire," he intoned, "It's that soldiers who ignore themselves, lose themselves."

I had to smile a bit, despite the grim situation.

"Would it make you feel better if I told you I was recently called out for that exact same thing?"

"Mmhm."

He pointed, "Did they say anything about that burn along your temple?"

I ran a hand along my flowing hair, wanting to braid it, "More of the same. I think I can make it work for me though."

He didn't look impressed with that answer.

"Father," Sevitus said, finally getting to his feet.

The both of us turned just as the tent closest to us flapped open. Looking at them now, I could see how makeshift they really were. Holes in fabric where the framing had poked through, the knots around the stakes were loosely tied, and more than one tent had the stain of ash and blood.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't surprised to see a woman in this strange world.

The woman who strutted forth from the tent moved with purpose and power, her footsteps audible as she stomped towards us. Her armor was steel plated with chainmail and leather, a higher class than that worn by Invictus or Sevitus. Her helmet and spauldrons were chipped in places and had some slight scalding along the breast plate.

Design wise, it didn't really compare to my costume, but with the authority in her walk she could easily have been one of the capes leading a small team back home. The same kind of posture and aura that I had seen with Narwhal and Cinereal was abundant with her.

"Archers!" She cried out.

Four men flanked her, spreading out to encompass my group in a semicircle with her in it's center. In eerie synchronization, all four readied their bows, all four steel arrows aimed at me.

Ah, shit. Here we go again.

I let my forcefield unfurl around me, positioning her so that most of my bodies would prevent richochet from hitting Invictus and his son.

"Captain Claudya," Invictus spoke, giving a short bow, arm held to his chest. Sevitus did the same.

Warily, I followed their lead, careful not to upset the bruising on my ribs. No need to flinch and give them reason to shoot.

"Quaestor Invictus," 'Claudya' spoke, "Who is this Nord Mage in rags that dropped you two out of the sky and why shouldn't I fill her with arrows?"

She didn't take her eyes off of me once while speaking, and I was pretty sure that if looks could kill, her glare would be more dangerous than ten times the number of these arrows. Still, I locked my eyes with hers, keeping my expression neutral even with the threat of murder thrown at me.

I had been thinking of Narwhal when I first saw her, but that resting bitch face was giving some heavy Bluestocking vibes now.

"This is Antares, Captain." Invictus seemed unfazed by the interrogation, "A mage from beyond Skyrim's borders. It is thanks to her that myself and Sevitus survived the rain of fire along the roadside."

"I see. And I'm supposed to believe that a kind mage such as this 'Antares', had nothing to do with why only two of my soldiers are standing before me, and Ulfric Stormcloak nowhere to be found? Tell me that he died horrifically Invictus."

Invictus grimaced, "Hogarth died instantly Captain. Ulfric Stormcloak and his allies made a quick getaway into the forest. I do not know whether they survived the forest fire."

It took a lot more willpower than expected to not react to that little fib.

Claudya clicked her tongue, "Disappointing Quaestor. Perhaps this mage has rattled your senses somehow, manipulating you to leading her here, where Ulfric's scum can finish off the dead and dying."

Invictus sigh was heavy.

Doesn't feel so good to be on the other end, huh?

"Captain," Sevitus spoke up suddenly, almost making me jump with how forceful he sounded.

Claudya raised one eyebrow in response.

"Captain," Sevitus repeatedly softly, "Lady Antares injured herself trying to save us. Her own temple burned by a flaming rock when she pushed me out of harms way. It would dishonor the Imperial Legion to not grant her some respite and care."

Everyone was silent, taking in the implication of what he said. I couldn't do anything yet without potentially making things worse, but I promised myself to repay this baby-faced soldier somehow.

I've got your back if you need it.

"You dare try to use my honor for the Empire to manipulate me?" Claudya looked like she was about to spit fire, "I have half a mind to cut out your tongue personally, and then force you to eat it before lending you to the executioner's blade. Even if I did believe in this awfully convenient nonsense about a foreign Mage on a stroll through Skyrim, who conveniently happened to be there to save your lives and allow Ulfric Stormcloak to escape... well, look around you soldier."

She gestured behind her, where I could see the outlines of bodies left on rugs in the open fields, and even more in tents with open flaps. I saw what looked like a nun or priest place glowing hands on a broken arm, watched as golden light surrounded the limb and mend the wounds.

Definitely powers here.

I looked away, shivering.

"General Tulius and the main force have moved on," the irate Captain continued, "All the walking wounded and those lucky to have only superficial burns are escorting the General and the survivors of Helgen to Whiterun, hopefully to convince the Jarl to allow time for recovery and brief asylum. Maybe a stop nearby Riverwood, if they wish."

"What I have under my command is a skeleton crew of soldiers and people who are too weak or dead to continue the trek north. I have only one Priest with a healing spell, who's close to exhaustion herself. Once she finally meets her limit, I will have to depend on relief from whatever villages the General has sent our way, if they decide to arrive at all."

"I have no time to spare to care for a complete stranger not worth my time nor trust."

Every word spoken was a right hook to Sevitus, leaving him reeling and flinching in response. He had spoken up for me in a moment of righteousness.

The least I could do was put my two cents in.

"How many wounded are we talking about?"

"Antares," Invictus warned.

"I don't recall giving you permission to speak," Claudya said. She seemed almost begging for a fight.

I didn't rise to the bait, "Depending on how many wounded there are, I think I might be able to help. We'd have to prioritize the worst cases first, but it's better than nothing at all."

Claudya studied me, curious, almost off kilter by my ignoring her bait.

"You're not a healer," she accused, "You'd have healed your own wounds if you could."

"I'm not," I admitted, "But I can fly and I can carry people, as you've seen. If we do this right, I could meet the relief forces halfway, maybe even take them up to... um-"

Sevitus whispered, "Whiterun."

"-Whiterun. I'm guessing they'd have more medical staff or healers there?"

Invictus nodded slowly, "They would. The Temple of Kynareth is dedicated to healing the sick or injured. Depending on how quickly they get there, it could make a difference."

I turned to Claudya, keeping the eye contact strong and ongoing. She wasn't ordering my death, which I felt was progress.

"How can I be so sure to trust you?" Claudya asked. "What reassurances do I have that you won't betray me and the men in my command?"

I spread my arms, slowly, "I don't know how to get to Whiterun, so I'd need a guide or two. And since I didn't just drop Invictus to his death on the way here, I think he can trust me to keep him safe as he does so."

"I would," Invictus clarified.

"If that isn't enough, then send me one or two of your men to come with me. If something happens and they don't return... well you know my name and my appearance. I'd be a wanted woman. But every second we spend here arguing about it, means that it's more likely your people will die on your watch. Is it really not worth the risk?"

Once more, everyone was silent, and I could even see the archers glancing between themselves and Claudya. It was frustrating to see her hesitate, even now as people were dying, when I knew just how fucked it was to feel your life drain away as your skin melted from your bones.

Maybe they weren't all that bad after all, but that didn't really matter. Because people were hurt and it was my duty to help, in any way that I could.

Finally, she spoke. "What is your plan, Antares. If it's nonsensical, I'll execute you myself."

I nodded. I had already half-formed the presentation in my head.

"Tell me Captain, how many wagons do you have?"

 

[Ridtom]

Interlude Light and Dark

⊙​

The faceless man screamed.

Or tried to anyways. Where a normal man with full lungs of air might have produced a mighty howl, the sound that came forth from the macabre Nord in front her was what she imagined trying to scream while drowning would sound like.

Blood spewed forth from where his mouth would have normally resided, pockets of air making tiny bubbles as the drowned-scream went on for seconds longer, and she knew the sound of it slapping the temple floor would haunt her dreams that night.

Maybe forever.

That terrified her. More than how bits of his skull peeked out of the red porridge of his cheek, more than how a single strand of muscle fiber held his eyeball off of the marble floor, more than the fact that her father watched on with a lack of compassion at the faceless man. These were physical ailments, things that would leave her periphery by days end that she could put behind her as she played with Ahlam down the road.

But what of the spirit? What about the merciless torment that she will experience when she rests her head to her cot, trapped in a landscape molded by her own fears and insecurities. Would she dream of the faceless man and the blood that poured from his maw? Would she dream of drowning as that blood slowly submerged her being, her screams strangled much like his own?

Yes, she thought. But I could handle a single nightmare.

And if the nightmares never stop? Can I handle that?

She knew the answer.

"Bear attack," her father announced, and she flinched. His voice was deep, authoritative, and resounded within the temple so that it would assault her from every angle.

His eyes didn't leave the faceless man, "His skin is flensed, tendons torn, jaw broken in three places, semi-blind, muscled gnawed off, skull fractured, major concussion-"

On and on he went, describing the grievous injuries inflicted on this poor wanna-be hunter, uncaring of his weakened screams of protest. His voice was as empty of kindness as the temple was of people.

"Step forth, Acolyte Danica."

She did so, small sandaled feet shuffling beneath robes to big for her mousey frame, clacking tightly along the marble. She wasn't granted a hood, not yet, but she didn't think she could ever stand to wear one. As her father stood opposite herself, the faceless man lying between them, the eyes beneath his priestly hood brought forth no signs of one filled with Kynareth's passion.

Had they ever shown anything other than distance? She couldn't remember ever seeing so, but she had heard talk from other children, who in turn heard from their guardians. Her mother had tried to heal a witch of some sorts while traveling and had paid a great price for it. Or she had ran off with a wealthy noble in Falkreath. Or she had died birthing Danica herself.

She didn't know what to believe. All she knew was that not once had her father called her anything other than-

"Acolyte Danica," he interrupted, "You may begin to state your loyalty to Kyne."

She did so, head bowed, "Come to me, Kynareth, for without you, I might not know the mysteries of the world, and so blind and in terror, I might consume and profane the abundance of your beautiful treasures."

The faceless man grunted in pain.

"Acceptable," he said, sounding less than pleased. "Raise your head Acolyte."

Acolyte Danica did as ordered without complaint.

"Heal this man, Acolyte, and you shall be one step closer to achieving priesthood."

There was no joy, no excitement. The man who was her father and teacher seemed to be reciting from a script for all he seemed to care.

Why am I doing this, if you care so little?

The acolyte raised her hands, sleeves falling back a tad bit, and summon her spell. Acolyte Danica had once heard a battle mage claim to her father that using his spells was like flexing a muscle, something that could trained and toned to perfection. That description always felt off to her. Magic couldn't be as simple to define as mere muscle or limbs.

She felt it dwell within her essence, coursing through her mind, and her inner being tap into the physical plain.

Golden light gloriously weaved into existence, sustained entirely within the palm of her hands. If she looked closely, she could faintly see the outline of an orb within, a fragile egg-shell that radiated indescribable energies.

It was the power of life itself.

With practiced care she harnessed the two globes together, the sphere doubling in size as the current synchronized, and focused her will on the poor faceless man. There was no stream, no true transfer or beam. In one moment the light was in her grasp, and the in the next, the man was engulfed in column of light.

There was another spilling of blood as the man moaned, but she could see how the patterns of light were circling around his wound, the movement beneath the glow. She felt the dim strain within herself as her magika began to lower.

"Watch," her father intoned, "Observe how the skin fold back and grows. The blood and muscle restructure themselves in response. Ingrain these images into your mind, so you may always remember why we are needed."

No.

The sudden thought shocked Acolyte Danica, and she had to fight to keep her focus on her spell. An act of rebellion, even internally, felt so... odd. Still, she let the word ruminate in her mind like she might when tasting a particular herb.

No, she thought once again, stronger now. She didn't want to watch the wound, hear the sounds, or think about how her father saw her.

Instead... she would watch the light. She would talk to the man after, make sure he's not suffering from pain of the heart or mind, and then she would pray.

I don't know you, she thought as sweat dripped down her face, But I will help you. Not because of him, but because it's to waste a life she gave us would be to spurn Kynareth's gentle heart.

That, Acolyte Danica decided, was the way things should be.

⊙​

The light was almost blinding as she stepped out of the temple, and not for the first time Danica Pure-Spring was happy for the hood she wore. Her temple was well-lit all things considered, but filtered through dusty panes of glass - something she would have Jenssen handle when he had time - the difference in radiance was... well, clear as day.

The shocked cries from outside had caught her attention, and now a crowd was encroaching on the garden area with the Gildergreen tree. Even Heimskr was mercifully silent for once, staring from his little perch by the Talos Statue.

Floating above the Gildergreen was a Nord woman in rags, long golden hair running down her shoulders. Surrounding her were straps of ropes, easily hundreds of feet in length when unfurled, and two wagons beneath her feet. On closer inspection, Danica noticed how both wagons were tightly wrapped together with the ropes, practically crushing the wooden axle from the stress.

Acolyte Jenssen was at the foot of the wagon, talking to the Nord mage as she floated down, the words indecipherable as the murmurs from the onlookers drowned them out. She pointed to the wagons, where lumpy white cloth was spotted with brown blotches. The stains had soaked in so deep that there was no doubt the whole clothe would have to be scrapped for good.

There was a rancid smell in the air and it only took her a brief moment to place it.

Waste.

Human waste and burnt meat.

She rushed forward, "Jenssen!"

Her treasured Acolyte turned towards her, "Danica! There are dying men in these carts who need our help! Victoria says it was Dragons!"

There were shocked cries all around her, but she ignored them. She knew squat about Dragons beyond stories, so she focused on what she knew for a fact, and that was Kynareth's grace.

The Nord woman - Victoria - was removing the rope straps from the wagon without her hands. As though they were bound to her will, they were untied and tossed aside without her doing much beyond float back and forth a few feet either way. It was a stunning display of mystic mastery, dual casting a telekinetic spell while also sustaining levitation, without even forming the magicka in her palms.

In any other situation, Danica would have been floored to be in the presence of such skill, but there were more important matters at hand.

"How many?" She asked, feeling her spell forming within herself. Jenssen had rolled up his sleeves, the gentle bearded giant taking deep breaths beside her.

Victoria shucked off the last of ropes, "I have fourteen here, and at least fifteen more back at the camp. I'm sorry for parking them here, but we couldn't find the main force and I didn't want to risk wasting time talking to the guards."

We?

On cue, an Imperial stepped away from the wagon, having been obscured by the craft. His armor was burnt at the edges, peeling back in black strips, and his bare arms shone a light red.

Oh. This... might be complicated.

Another Imperial reached over the wagon edge - his armor vastly more pristine - and pulled off one of the white blankets. The harsh smell erupted in front of Danica, but she bore it with the will of hardened experience. Beneath that bloodied cloth, six or seven Imperial soldiers lay prone, undressed from their armor... for the most part. Some unlucky souls had melted leather branded into their skin where bandages had been loosely dressed.

The other cloth was removed, revealing the other half of the soldiers, equally maimed.

Oh Kynerath. This is very complicated.

"We need these wagons for the return trip." Victoria pleaded, "Please, you have to help them."

"And we will," Jenssen spoke and summoned his glowing orbs.

Well. That was that.

Danica called out without looking, "Ahlam!"

"I'm here." Her best friend spoke behind her, "What can I do?"

"Go to Arcadia, get as many minor healing and magicka potions as you can. If she has any major healing potions, even better. Priority is stabilization and removal."

"I won't have to coin for all of that." Her best friend sounded as though she was speaking through a cloth.

"Tell Arcadia she'll be generously reimbursed by our Temple and the Imperial army." Danica glanced at the soldier to her right, "Correct?"

He nodded.

She heard her friend dash away and immediately got to work, golden light appearing at her beck and call. She targeted the injured closest to her, wrapping them in an embrace of life energy.

She could hear a deep breath being taken. Not the soldier, who's wounds were healing but still not complete.

It was Victoria, watching from above.

Danica caught her eye, "You have the same powers."

Powers? "I've trained Acolyte Jenssen in restoration as well, yes. I trust him to do just as capable a job as myself."

"High praise," was the strained remark, but he had already finished his second patient. Said patient was being hauled out of the cart by an invisible force, and gently placed near the Gildergreen.

Victoria hadn't shown any sign of movement during the act, her eyes wide and contemplative as she watched them work. There was a burn at her temple, small but noticeable for it's star-like shape, clearly recent.

Danica turned her healing hands towards her, "Do you need to be heal-"

Victoria shot to the side, avoiding where her hands would have been pointed. It wasn't a huge distance, but the quick movement caught everyone's attention, and Danica couldn't help but be unnerved at how the Nord's eyes never left her.

There was a brief moment of quiet, save for the moans and groans of those who were semi-conscious. Another one was lifted up by unseen forces and deposited gently down to the earth.

"...No," Victoria finally said. "I'm fine. Just, please help them. They need it more."

Danica glanced to the Imperial soldiers who arrived with the Nord. The burned one frowned, but nodded.

Right. Complicated.

There was shouting now, clanking and shuffling from the lower levels. The guards were just now arriving, likely having been taken off-guard by someone simply flying over the gates and walls.

"Uthgerd?" Danica shouted, hoping the crass warrior was in the crowd.

There was a clank of steel to her right, "You called?"

Thank Kynareth. "I need you to work with the Imperials here to make sure the guards understand that they will not be fighting around the injured and that they are under my temples protection at the moment."

"Mhmm. Sounds expensive."

Danica had to sigh, "Do you recall that night with the Nord courier you, uh, charmed a month ago? How you and several, uh, participants came to me for help?"

"...I admire a Priest willing to get her hands dirty. Alright, lets get to work you Imperial boot-lickers. You heard the lady!"

She sighed once again, only this time it felt like actual exhaustion. Her third patient didn't look all that good, even as her healing was completed, but there was only so much she could do at the moment.

He was taken and placed as well.

More shouting and posturing close by, angry and accusatory.

"Thank you," Victoria said, "I hope I didn't offend you, but... just thanks again."

She looked up at the Nord, watching with slight awe as her hair seemed to braid and then unbraid itself behind her.

After the third time, Danica reached into her pouch and pulled out a string.

"For your hair," she said at Victoria's questioning look, "If you won't let me heal you, then at least let me help you."

A brief pause, before Victoria dipped down, reaching out with a scarred hand to grab at the string. She held it for a moment and the next saw it float to her hair, now held at the ready as it was tied together.

Victoria smiled and it was one that could charm a dozen men's hearts, "That does help."

"Good," Danica smiled back and summoned the lights once more, "That's the way things should be."

⊙​

The Elder Scrolls told of their return, according the men who had hunted him, before they were devoured.

Their defeat was merely a delay, which the might creature already knew.

No one wanted to believe they even existed, for the idea of such powerful creature struck fear into the hearts of even the mightiest of heroes. For he was mighty, his scales harder than any mortal blade, his Thu'um rusty but nonetheless capable of crushing those who would dare trespass onto his lands.

But. There is one he fears.

"Rise, now, Mirmulnir."

And so Mirmulnir did, it's sleep disturbed by the tongue of ones total command of all.

The night was brighter than usual, the phase of this plane's Moon gifting the realm it's own ghastly glow for travel. Mirmulnir could smell the spirits of the forest, brimming with fear at the his mere existence.

No. Not his existence.

The Moon was glorius, second only the stars, but beyond either was the deep black of true Power. His dark form splintered the sky with his might, great wings flapping with the strength to shake the nearby trees, his entire being exuding despair and tyranny.

Mirmulnir had enjoyed a time of relative rule over the inhabitants of this ancient forest for hundreds of years, devouring the many adventurous mortals who had dared hunt down the legends he left in his wake. He admired those who came prepared to slay him for honor and creed, and felt utter contempt for those who's only desire was hoards of gold rumored to be his nest.

Pathetic. Gold was useless for him, a mortal concept of attraction to shiny objects given life by their economic evolution as a species.

No, it was far better to have them prostrate before him and bathe in their devotion. Not something he could afford now, after his kind had been overthrown and thwarted, as worthy as opponents as they had been.

Faced with the resurgence of the one being meant to rule all.... the mighty long-lived Mirmulnir bowed.

"Mine servitude is yours, Alduin."

His Lord landed, shaking the land hard enough that Mirmulnir's bones rattled and the creatures within fled for safer realms. Milmulnir's snout touched the ground, eyes down, as Alduin loomed over him in power and all that was.

"The world has changed, mine Lord. It is not once what is was in our rule."

"My rule," the great Alduin breathed, "Has not changed old-child. The realm has forgotten the fangs of their Lord, perhaps. No longer."

The Lord strode forth and past the bowed Mirmulnir, inspecting it's nest of crushed Dwemer ruins.

Former nest, as the Lord set forth a flame so powerful that it's sheer heat scalded the outer scales of Mirmulnir's body, despite facing the opposite direction of the blast. The forest was set ablaze along with any creature foolish enough to have stayed within.

The fire and flames reflected off of Alduin's sky-black scales only cemented his beauty of Akatosh's creation.

"Cease this existence Mirmulnir. Go North, to the land of men who lack conviction to join one another. Rend their souls, grow strong once again and spread fear into all who oppose my rule."

Mirmulnir bowed deeply, "As you will, World-Eater."

With a might leap that saw him clear the tree tops, Mirmulnir took flight, soaring through the sky with power beyond mortal comprehension.

He would lay waste to all who fought, all who ran to other lands, and any foolish spirits who dared challenge him.

Alduin would rule. No longer a tool for the world to cleanse itself, but it's rightful heir to complete totality.

This is the way things should be.

 

[Ridtom]

Candlelight 2.1

⊙​

Then

I flew down to the Earth, feeling my skirt rustle up slightly as I dipped down, and was forever thankful for taking my Mom's advice about the shorts. Dad still wasn't happy about it, but Dad's just didn't get it sometimes. It was my concession to avoid having to wear the gaudy, full body New-Wave uniforms, and what had sounded dorky then felt necessary when people would constantly look up at you.

It was a pretty stupid thought, admittedly, when the crowd of people below were far more concerned with what was happening below than above.

Said crowd parted after I cleared my throat, announcing my presence and making room for me to land on the sidewalk. My Mom turned to me, her solemn expression even worse with the overcast, but her posture was strong. Shoulders back, back straight, feet spread, hair and costume immaculate.

I hadn't seen any official reporters yet, just random unpowered with cellphones and nothing better to do, but the way my Mom held herself was as though she was at the Mayor's press conference. It made it really hard to actually see her as a Mom.

I may have had the emotional aura power, but Brandish radiated superhero.

"Any luck?" Mom- Brandish asked. Just loud enough that a few of the cellphones turned from the scene to us. I stiffened, feeling a flash of trepidation at people watching - observing - me, camera lights catching me in their green and black light.

I felt my body copy Brandish's stance and sort of hated myself for it. I answered, "No, sorry. I flew around, like, three blocks but didn't see anyone with bloody clothes running away."

"Don't be sorry," Brandish lightly admonished, "Next time we'll do better."

Translation: You'll do better.

I hoped the cameras didn't catch my face heating up. It took a lot to not run a hand through my blond curls, and I was happy my shoulder cape hid a tense fist beneath it.

She continued on as usual, "He won't get away for long. We have a positive I.D. on the attacker thanks to cell-phone video and the victim was able to give us a decent description of the events despite his injuries. Justice will have its day."

So cheesy, I thought, but also secretly loved. Sometimes the best part of doing super-heroics is getting to say stuff that gets put in movies without a trace of irony or sarcasm.

"Do you want me to do another patrol?" I asked, wanting to look and feel like I was actually contributing. "I can watch the video and ask around if anyone has seen him."

Brandish shook her head, "I can't imagine it would help now. We're a hop and step near Empire territory, and he's probably in a designated safe-house, or at least knows the area enough to stay out of sight for a time."

"Then-" I paused, indecisive. I wasn't sure if she wanted me to ask why she had called me here or if she wanted me to figure it out for myself. If it was the latter, then I would be in for another lecture about how I should be thinking outside the box and anticipating what was to be expected of me in the field.

So annoying.

Brandish smiled and my confusion doubled. The fact that it was such a sad smile made it hit that much harder.

"Follow me," she said and turned, the smile gone as the cameras got a better look at her. That wouldn't have looked good for a superhero, smiling at a crime scene.

I floated after her, feeling more and more like I was trapped by the gaze of these cameras, struggling to figure out how I was supposed to hold myself in this kind of situation. Did I continue to emulate my Mom, a stern and robotic presence of "Justice"... or did I try to make my own mark? Prim and proper? Statuesque? Carefree?

I barely had time to actually consider my options when we had arrived. My Dad and Uncle Niel - Flashbang and Manpower - were there, Flashbang crouched down near the victim while Manpower stood and kept people from getting too close.

Flashbang had turned at the sound of Brandish's approach, a serious expression that flickered into rapid-fire surprise, then worry when he saw me floating behind her. I didn't really notice or care at the moment though. When he turned, the victim was revealed.

At first, I couldn't really comprehend what I was seeing. I'd watched movies where men and women were attacked by the bad guys, had stumbled across more than a few crime scene photos when binging on Internet searches and looked at those with an almost morbid sense of fascination. Back then, it had all seemed to be detached from reality.

This wasn't the same.

It was as if he was a Changer trapped in the midst of his transformation from Jekyll to Hyde. One half of his elderly Asian face was normal, full of wrinkles, and his crows feet shined where tears had fallen down. The other half was almost bulbous, deep shades of purple and red along his cheek and lips, his left eye swollen shut to the point I was worried it would be crushed from the pressure. Green and black ichor fell from his nose where it had been wrenched to one side with malicious force, the skin peeling from where the blow hand landed.

No, this wasn't the same at all.

"Is he going to be okay?" I blurted out, the words coming naturally.

Flashbang sighed, "He might have a concussion, definitely a broken nose, but anything more serious will need the ambulance and authorities to tell. You didn't happen to see anyone suspicious as you flew over-"

I shook my head.

He muttered, "Damn."

"What was he doing here? All alone near Empire territory?"

"He was taken, Glory Girl," Brandish spoke, "Eyewitnesses claim he had leapt from the back of a van a few feet from this spot. The vehicle took off, but not before the attacker leapt out and battered him for a few minutes. Eventually, a few people came to his aid and the attacker ran."

I didn't miss that infliction. Eventually.

So close to Empire turf, how many of the people then... how many of the people here, now, watched this happen?

How many of them thought, "Serves 'em right"?

Those utter fuckers.

My fists were clenched so hard, I wouldn't have been surprised if I left cut marks in my palm, forcefield or no forcefield.

Part of me wished Amy was here. She would have been able to calm me down a bit, given me a hug when I really fucking wanted one.

Another part of me was glad she wasn't. I wanted to feel mad, to feel this bubbling anger at these cowardly dick-waffles and all the people who let it happen. I wanted to feel this towards myself, because I clearly didn't do a good enough job in searching around the few blocks, and now this asshole was feeling on top of the world.

Besides, Amy could never handle the bloody stuff anyways. This would have given her nightmares for days.

I met Brandish's eyes. My Mom's eyes. I knew now why she had called me out on this patrol. I had only been in three minor fights since I joined the team, two burglaries and one gang fight between junkie teens.

This was different. Something deeper, more primal, than just petty crimes. This was hate, malice, pure evil.

She wanted me to know exactly what lied ahead of me. To know who was to blame for the Bay being what it was.

"-lein", the man muttered.

I leaned forward, "What's he saying?"

"Had to use a phone translator," Flashbang answered, "He's been asking us to not tell his grandkids in Vietnamese. Doesn't want us to scare them."

I had to blink to keep the moisture out of my eyes. Getting emotional would only make a bad situation worse, if my Mom was to be believed, and I wasn't willing to make this in anyway worse for this poor old man.

"We're going to get him," I said. To him and to me. "He's going to pay for what he did."

It was a promise I meant to keep.

The old man looked up at me, his one good eye still full of tears, but there was a stronger emotion within the light of his eye.

When he spoke, it was in a harsh whisper, "Krasaar ko thdro lein."

I didn't even know if he understood me - I sure as hell couldn't understand him - but I didn't think we needed to. Our tone was good enough.

"Heads up," Manpower practically bellowed, "Brothers in Blue are on the scene."

The cops were finally here, making their way from the patrol cars with their green and black lights to our growing crowd. My irritation at their slow arrival was only exceeded by my excitement at getting more good guys on our side.

"Stay with us Glory Girl," Brandish said, "Listen to how this is handled, and if you really want to help, try to partake in the planning as much as possible. Within reason of course."

Of course. Not that our ways of measuring 'within reason' were in any way similar.

If she saw the look of annoyance on my face, she didn't show it, simply walking towards the approaching officers.

Right. Okay.

I turned towards them, flourishing my cape as I swiveled in the air, feeling my hair bounce in my wake. Superhero mode was set.

We were together, we were united, and we had a plan.

Let's do this.

⊙​

Now

Could you all give me five-fucking minutes?!

From what I could see, there were three main ways to reach this plaza.

Route A to my left. Soldiers from the entrance gate were practically lining up along the stair-case from the lower level leading to this tree-plaza, kept at bay only by Invictus, Claudya's toady, and the female knight named Uthgerd. No swords had been swung at each other, but there was a lot of shouting, and more than a few times I could hear Uthgerd literally guffawing. Which I high doubted was helping to ease the tension.

Route B to my front. From where the Healer... from where Danica had exited from her temple was another road, the same that had been taken by her friend Ahlam to fetch the "potions", which was only slightly cluttered by a small group of guards. These were held in check by Jenssen and a few other men that I didn't know, and from his furtive glances back towards us, I was guessing he really wanted us to do something.

Finally, Route C to my right. Where there was now a small army of guards were just now descending the long staircase at a safe, but also really fucking worrying, pace. If I were to guess, they were probably from the castle at the higher level, and that was probably where the King was. Which probably made them the King's personal guard, and that meant things were definitely going tits up for us here.

My "allies" were separated, we were only united by circumstance, and I had no fucking idea about what to do now.

God, I missed my team. We were far from perfect, but I knew I could trust them with my life if I had to.

Now I was surrounded by strangers in a world that had been trying to capture or kill me for the past... who knows how many hours.

Even a single hour here is far longer than I ever wanted.

Below me, the glowing light dimmed and died down.

"Finished!" Danica shouted triumphantly.

I followed that up with having my arms reach down for the last soldier, gently raising him up and depositing him near the tree below. His wounds weren't completely healed, but that was what the potions were for.

Which, as I watched Ahlam hand him a small red vial, I still had trouble actually believing with my own two eyes. The man greedily drank the tiny glass and instantly his body was wreathed in a spiral column of light. Where burns and bruises had been reduced by Danica, they now fully closed up or faded to the point that they were barely noticeable.

Ahlam had passed around nearly a dozen of these bottles, some larger than others, and still had at least ten more to go.

Instinctively I thought of Cask, the tinker from Anchorage. He was reported to have been able to brew up "potions" as well, his concoctions capable of healing or granting minor abilities to himself and allies. Bitter Pill was somewhat similar, using vials of liquid or her namesake pills to force mutations on the body, some with healing factors. Cryptid was a lot more similar to Bitter Pill than Cask, but the theme was still there for liquid healing and transformations, even I never recalled him actually making others take his tinker tech.

It just didn't fit. Danica had told Ahlam to go buy these from someone, and here we were, almost two dozen potions that all did the same thing.

Just like Danica and Jenssen had the same powers.

No. Because Danica had taught Jenssen how to heal people with that strange light. If she was telling the truth, that is.

But why would she lie about it? It doesn't make any sense.

Help me out here Fragile One. Please.

A memory came to mind, surprisingly abrupt, from some of my earliest studying of PRT protocols with Dean. The same stuff that had kept me almost sane in my stay at the Asylum.

Remember when to Logic past Emotion, and to Emote past Logic.

My emotions were running wild. I had to categorize and prioritize myself. My goals.

I took a deep breath, calming myself.

Yeah, that felt right. I was overwhelming myself with questions, when the simple fact was that I had bigger issues at hand.

I glanced at the approaching guards and my focus zeroed in immediately on the figure leading them.

Hard to see from this distance still, but I could make out ginger-ish hair, and the way none of them dared try to match or beat her pace brought to my mind the way Lord of Loss had commanded the respect of his men. None had tried to challenge his decisions or missions, even remaining loyal despite many of their friends becoming impregnated by Loss's underlings.

I didn't understand it then, and it didn't matter now. The message was received.

This lady was a big deal here, and I was probably already on her shit-list despite never meeting her.

I dropped down till I was just a half-foot off the ground, near where Danica stood.

She was breathing hard, hands on her knees and hood pulled back so she could wipe the sweat off of her brow. Her hair was blond but not as light or long as mine, the back tied into an elaborate bun, only allowing two bangs to fall forward on her forehead. She didn't look old, not any older than my Mom, but there were lines in her face that put to mind someone who had been through a harrowing life that aged her sooner than anyone would have liked. It was hard to tell, but I was pretty sure she was also using black eye-liner.

Her robes didn't really do her figure any justice, but considering what I was stuck with, I figured I could give her some slack on that.

"I know I said it before, but I really have to thank you for your help. You've saved so many lives today already."

I hesitated for a moment.

She's not her. Don't go offending the people who've saved your ass.

That helps surprisingly little.

Danica wasn't Amy, not even close. If anything, she looked like a distant cousin to me. It was the robe and her being a healer that was hitting the red-flags I'd set for myself. I didn't trust powered healing, for good reason, and a part of me refused to give in even slightly to a potential trip down that kind of memory lane.

But I owed her.

I stuck out my hand. She smiled a bit as she took it, the other hand going to her hood, and I had to hold back a wince as she pulled it back on.

When she spoke, she was still breathing hard, "My job's not done yet. You still have more than a dozen men to return with, right?"

I sighed, "That was the plan. But we've got a big issue heading our way."

I nodded toward the stairs, where the Lady and her guard were now visible to the ground level.

Danica moaned, "It's Irileth. Oh, Kynerath gave us mercy."

I felt disappointment drape itself over me at that reaction, "I'm guessing she won't be as understanding about this situation as you have been."

"Not if she's doing her job right," she muttered something that sounded like a prayer.

A thought came to me, "Is she the King's personal bodyguard?"

Danica looked at me sharply, "King? Who?"

I cocked an eyebrow and nodded at the giant castle where the soldiers were coming from.

"Jarl Balgruuf? He's no King, he's just... well, the Jarl." She almost sounded amused despite her previous panic, "Irileth is his personal bodyguard however. Some people weren't comfortable with a Dunmer in such power near the Jarl, but she's been nothing but loyal to him and our Keep."

"Dunmer is her... title?" My eyes weren't as good as Crystal's or even Carl and Mark's at the high distance that I'd seen her, but I didn't immediately notice

"Oh, no." She frowned, keeping one eye as the soldiers grew nearer, "I guess Dark Elf is the term a lot more of those outside Whiterun would call her. I'm not sure what she personally prefers however."

I studied her expression, trying to gauge how serious she was being.

I was apparently too obvious, because now she was surprised, "You do know of Elves don't you?"

"I've... heard of them, yeah. Just not commonly where I'm from." Yeah, mostly because I didn't live in the North Pole or in a children's book series. Hell, Spright had been the closest thing I'd personally seen as someone going for an elf-themed cape. And his was mostly in the abstract.

No. There had been something earlier today, hadn't there?

The Empire is a loose collective of various kinds of cultures, men, beast, and the mer... as unfortunate as that tends to be.

Ulfric.

The mer. Dunmer. I could have kicked myself into a hillside for not putting two and two together sooner.

That meant there were cultures of Men, Mer or "Elves", and... Beast? Now what did that mean?

What did it mean for him to find the Mer, unfortunate?

"You might have to get behind me, Victoria." Danica spoke in a soft way that had nothing to do with her exhaustion, "Lest she fill you with arrows and ask questions later. At least with me she might hesitate slightly."

My eyes widened at that, just as Irileth came into view.

My first thought was, She's a Case Fifty-Three. Cauldron's left it's mark here as well.

Her skin was a light grey that normal humans couldn't match without a lot of makeup applied, almost an opposite to how pale Sveta was. The woman's hair was an orange that made her skin stand out all the more strongly, framing ludicrously sharp cheek-bones, and pointed elf-ears like out of a Maggie Holt movie.

What stood out the most, however, was the deep red of her eyes. The red was so all-encompassing that instead of what Danica described as a "Dark Elf", I was immediately put to mind of a demon in the mangled skin of some poor woman. The tattoos curving down from each socket to the neck didn't do much to alleviate that initial intimidation factor.

Which was probably the point.

There's no Cauldron tattoo.

That I could see, maybe.

Maybe not.

Mer. Elves. Magic and Potions. Dragons.

Her armor was of high quality, matching only those worn by Claudya, but beyond using leather that designs were clearly different. Irileth's armor was layers of leather and tanned hides belted together over fur lining, her pauldrons reaching all the way down to her lower biceps, with her left side having some kind of neckguard branching off. Brass or bronze pieces of armor served to accentuate the design, with a buckle and chest piece that looked like they could be used to bash in some skulls if she wanted.

A bow was slung across her back, and a sword at her side.

It was the latter that she reached for once she saw me, eyes widening and sneer spreading across her face. I'd seen similar expressions on Ashley, and especially on Damsel, which usually meant blood was going to spilt in some way or another.

That was fine. I had a way of pacifying Ashley's.

Danica was stepping forward, but I beat her to the punch by a country mile.

With my flight as a boost and means of making the transition flow smoothly, I slid past Danica and forward to the pissed off "Elf".... and bowed before her.

There was a stunned silence, the only noise coming from the unintelligible shouts of Uthgerd in the background.

I hate this so much, I thought, which was probably an understatement. I'd been stepped on and pushed around enough times that even pretending to submit like this felt as though I was spitting on everything I stood for as a person.

Lives were at stake though and that outweighed any petty shame, every time. Shin was a thousand times worse than just bending the knee here.

So long as I kept the pressure off of my bad leg and pretending I was making a superhero landing, it wasn't that bad.

I heard the draw of a blade in one second and felt cold steel tap the side of my head in the next. Really cold steel, almost numbing as a chilling sensation spread down the side of my face, my skin breaking out into goosebumps.

Down girl, I felt the forcefield on the edge of surfacing, Let's let this one slide for now.

"Raise your head and identify yourself, Invader." Her voice almost sounded like it had a British accent.

I raised my head and looked into her blood-colored eyes, noting that they did have tiny pupils after all.

"I'm no invader, Ma'am." Best to be as polite as possible, "My name is Antares or Victoria, whichever you prefer, and I came to save these men's lives."

"Generally, Nord of Two Names," she spoke dryly, "People who bypass our checkpoints to land with a company of trained soldiers in our midst would be called Invaders. Tell me why I shouldn't cut you down now and save my ears the displeasure of your voice?"

Good god, I think she is possessed. By Ashley of all people.

I kept my expression neutral, "I would think this city would be able to handle fourteen dying soldiers with no weapons."

"And what of the mage who flew them in?"

I huffed out a breath, "Look at her now."

She raised one immaculate eyebrow.

Right. Not exactly Ashley.

"I really do apologize for this circus I've made, but again, there were lives at stake. I couldn't find there main camp, and I settled for following their directions to the nearest safe-haven."

"Not safe for much longer," she muttered.

Before I could respond to that, she glanced sharply behind me, "Danica, you've been wanting to say something. I'm very unhappy with you, so best make it quick."

I heard a deep breath behind me.

"Dragons."

You could have believed she uttered a magic spell, the wave of gasps and hushed whispers that erupted behind Irileth.

Irileth frowned, "What on earth are you preaching Priest?"

"Jenssen told me," Danica said, "He talked with Victoria, or um, Antares here and a few other soldiers. They said that Dragons attacked Helgen. Burned it all to cinders."

The whispers were now mumbled conversations, more than a few helmets clacking together from the news.

"Quiet back there!" Irileth roared and the men behind her stilled, immediately going into attention.

She glared down at me, sword unwavering, "Is this true?"

Not wanting to risk nodding, I simply spoke, "Helgen was destroyed last I saw of it. The men I took here were from the attack itself. Invictus, he's the one by the lower stairs, will vouch for me."

I don't know if it was Dragons though.

But why not? I have an elf right in front of me don't I?

Fuck. Fucking fuck fuck.

Irileth looked into my eyes and it felt like she was looking for some kind of deception.

Whatever she saw, she withdraw her sword and sheathed it in one flowing motion. I breathed easier, happy I wasn't going to have to knock some sense into these people.

"Atticus, take your squad and question everyone here. I want every one from elder to child to be on the report I expect from you. And get those fools down by the Plain Stairs to knock off that racket they're making. Then question this Invictus person."

Without waiting for a signal, a soldier whom I presumed to be Atticus and four others left her party.

"Danica Pure-Springs", she pointed at the woman behind me, "Stay here. I want you with these Imperials for now. Tend to their wounds, give them your prayers, whatever you want. If you need something from the Temple, have Julius and Craena here assist you."

Two more soldiers broke off and passed me by. I heard a faint "Kynerath have mercy on you", before the helpful healer departed.

"Rise, Antares or Victoria, whatever you call yourself. You'll stick by my side and if I even get a lingering doubt about your intentions, I will gut you like a slaughter-fish."

I rose in one smooth motion thanks to my flight, and I saw more than a few guards regard me with some distaste as I float-walked forward. They were already on edge around me, so outright flight probably was the best option at the moment.

Irileth was already striding back, the lines of the soldiers opening wide for her to pass. As I float-walked up to her, they fell in line behind me, weapons jangling in-synch.

How much longer will this take, I thought.

I asked, "Where are we going?"

The elf glanced back at me with a sneer, "Despite my better judgement, I'm taking you to the Jarl's throne. You will explain yourself and the situation at Helgen at length."

I felt a race of fear through my body, "Irileth, I made a promise with the Imperial Captain of these men that I would have them healed and returned as proof as my trust. I left a... a friend back there as insurance so they wouldn't think I ran off. I don't know how long she'll keep him safe from harm."

"Two things you should know, Victoria or Antares." She spoke with an eerie calm, "One, is that if I hear you say anything without my or the Jarl's asking, I will use the tip of my blade to carve up the pretty face of yours."

"The second is something all children learn with a proper upbringing."

She turned back to me one final time, her expression filled with deadly seriousness, "You never make a promise that you can't keep."

Lady, I thought, You have no idea.

My expression didn't betray anything as she stared, once again looking for a hint of what I was thinking. She gave an amused sound as she turned away.

With that she continued her stride, leaving me to follow in her wake.

 

[Ridtom]

Candlelight 2.2

⊙​

Lets assume Elves are real.

Easy enough, there was one walking right in front of me, and she had previously threatened to maim me if I spoke out of turn. Irileth didn't really look like the kind of Elves I had seen in movies like Harry Potter or the Maggie Holt Saga. The former had them be knobby and frail looking servants to wizards, the latter had them be an off-shoot of the beautiful Fae or fairies or whatever. I wasn't exactly knowledgeable on either series, but I didn't recall anything called Dunmer. But there was, striding forth and surrounded by loyal guards, taking me to this "Jarl" of theirs.

Dark Elf. Right. Sure.

Lets assume Magic is real.

A bit harder, but there was some strong evidence that this was true. Invictus had implied that "levitation" had been common enough to be outlawed, I'd seen that Danica and Jenssen could both heal using the same ability, there was the healing "potions" they'd given to the soldiers. And, of course, how everyone kept referring to me as a mage. I felt like a strong argument could be made using some articles on power expression and division using key combinations or loopholes in the system, like the Yangban of old. Yet, I didn't feel confident enough to support that argument.

Magic and Mages. Okay.

Lets assume Dragons are real.

Could I? Could I really? I hadn't actually seen Helgen be destroyed after all, and if I assumed Magic to be real, then wouldn't it be safer to assume that the meteor shower had been some voodoo ritual of a wizard rather than a Dragon doing it? What was the connection to Dragons and a meteor shower anyways? Hell, people here seemed wary to believe Dragons have returned, shouldn't that go double for me?

Only if I ignored that they did believe. Do.

Ulfric, Invictus, Sevitus, Claudya, Danica, and even Irileth seemed to believe. Every time the word Dragon was uttered, it felt like a ripple of fear would travel to anyone who heard it. And while I supposed that the existence of Magic and Elves didn't necessarily mean Dragons were an actual thing, it didn't mean that they couldn't exist at all.

There was a shape in the smoke too. You know it wasn't a trick of the light.

Dragons. Fine.

Still really hard to fucking swallow.

I wasn't sure how to describe it, but I felt as if Elves, Wizards, and fucking Dragons were just so... so... fictional.

I felt like I was ten years old again, ruining Christmas by explaining to Amy how Santa Claus predated the years that superpowers had actually been recorded, so it didn't make sense to believe this jolly fat guy would have been around for so long. A big fight, a lot of tears on her part, and a week being grounded made it clear that I should keep my opinions on imaginary creatures to myself.

Now here I was, in a world of imaginary creatures given life, and I felt like I was experiencing some twisted cosmic joke.

Where do I draw the line?

Did the existence of Dragons mean the same should be said for krakens and minotaurs? Did Leprechauns live under this Earth's rainbows and Tooth Fairies exchange currency for baby teeth? Does magic mean curses and good luck charms were common place? What about if little nonsense rhymes like stepping on a crack really could break a mom's back?

There's something I have some experience with at least.

I don't know if I meant it to come out as humorously self-deprecating or just self-loathing. Maybe I was just losing my mind. Already lost it, thanks to the Stranger Titan.

Now, if there was ever a sick joke, it was hoping that I had lost all my sanity facing an homicidal alien monster, because the alternative was threatening to break me with the volume of questions filling up my head.

How does this world of magic and dragons tie into our understanding of the Cycle, as limited as it is? Are our powers and this magic tied to the same source? If not, then what does that mean for the multiverse at large?

Do you have any answers for me?

If she did, she didn't share them with me. I had to fight the frustration brimming within.

She was on my side. She came to my aid when I needed her in the Shard space, had worked with me as a friend and partner during the ongoing Titan crisis, and had given hints to warn me about the real threat when Amy put me in a bad headspace.

I believed that everyone on the side of good deserved this level of connection, even if I still had some concerns about how much of what I was thinking was actually my thinking.

But the lack of answers to these constantly mounting questions was beyond agonizing.

I showed and voiced none of this internal anguish, focusing instead on keeping my expression non-threatening and flight to keep pressure off of my bad leg.

We had left the tree-plaza as one, methodically marching our way back up the stairs to the castle, and were now upon the walkway leading to it's main entrance. It seemed to be a bridge positioned over a small pit of water, man made obviously enough. I wasn't entirely sure of its purpose, since I was pretty sure a moat was meant to surround the entire castle as a defense, rather than be a medium sized pool in one location.

Not like I could ask about it anyways.

We passed under the high wooden arches without a single word being uttered.

Irileth hadn't bothered to ask me anything during our march nor look my way to make sure I was behaving, which proved she was either really confident or not caring enough to voice her thoughts. Perhaps some combination of both.

Her guards were equally silent, but despite their full-faced helmets I could tell when they would try to subtly give me a once over. It wasn't completely obvious, but the way chainmail would clack when it met their body-armor would catch my attention, and a glance would see them with their head tilted slightly my way so that an eye-hole would have me in their sights.

A step would see them facing forward again, marching on, only for someone on the opposite side of me do the same.

I felt my skin crawl, even though in my head I knew that they were probably making sure I wasn't trying something sneaky, rather than as eye candy. It didn't help. I felt the strange clothing brushing against bare skin, felt the lingering questions about who put me here, and vile thoughts of a dream I barely remembered when I awoke.

There wasn't much I could do to fight it. I didn't trust my headspace enough at the moment to use my forcefield near so many people, and I couldn't fly to isolate myself with my thoughts to sort them out. I felt like a bird in a cage, but that cage was twine and my wings were massive.

Could I break free? Yes, and with very little effort.

Could I accurately account for the fallout of breaking free? No. Hell no. Ethan had told me to trust my instincts during our flirting slash sparring session, and now I did.

And my instincts were telling me that my thoughts were spiraling. Again.

You're here, the memory came unbidden. Cafe. Feel my hand. Meet my eyes-

No café. No hand to hold. No eyes to meet.

But I still took that deep, slow breath of air through my nose. In. Hold it. Out.

In. Hold. Out.

In. Out.

My skin was just my skin. The clothes were just gaudy rags. This whole situation was fucked, but that wasn't anything new. It just was.

I looked to the sky, feeling some moisture in my eyes.

I miss you Sveta. I could really use a hug right now.

Thanks, friend.

I blinked away my misty vision. I was going to talk to this Jarl, I was going to save those men's lives, I was going to get home and I was going to save the fucking world.

Antares, Victoria, Glory Girl, the Scholar, the Warrior Monk, and the Monster all agreed. That was our mission.

We approached the wooden doors to the castle, Irileth barking out, "Open up!"

The large doors were thrust open and we entered the castle proper.

What hit me first was the smell of something burning, the aroma wafting as fresh air from the entrance flew in to mingle with the far warmer temperature of the interior. It reminded me of family barbeques from what felt like eons ago, Mom grilling Shish Kebobs with expert precision and laser knives, while Dad set the tables and refreshments. Remnants of a life and world that had been destroyed.

The second thing to hit me was how surreal it felt to be inside an actual medieval castle.

Much like how the Wardens built their initial headquarters with the idea of emphasizing the larger than life aspects of capes and heroics, so too did the spacious Hall that surrounded us. Not nearly as large, but the tall arcing bannisters of polished wood where colored banners hung, intricately carved columns, grand stone slabbed steps, extravagantly long dining tables draped in fine cloth and lit by silver candlelight....

I honestly felt as though I had traveled back through time, to a world where everything had to be made with pure effort, intense focus and pride in one's own abilities. Because to fail with shoddy craftsmanship would lead to one's death at nature or the nobility that you unwittingly insulted. I wasn't sure about how safe having such a large, indoor open-fire pit in the middle of the dining hall was, but the aesthetic worked.

I was so busy soaking in the atmosphere and style of the place that I had to force myself to notice the people within.

The guards were expected, though few in number as they stood by the great wooden walls or tables. Most of the main force had probably left to detain me, a theory that seemed reinforced with how naturally the group around me dispersed into the room, whispering in hushed tones to those who had stayed within. Only Irileth remained with me, still not looking back to make sure I was following.

Fair enough, anyone else would be suicidal to try something while surrounded by so many guards.

And children. I thought, spying three of them as I followed Irileth around the burning pyre.

They sat obediently at the right-hand dining table, watching me with intense curiosity, while a man who looked like he could have eaten Rain for dinner and gone for seconds glared at me from behind them. Judging from how personalized his scaled armor and horned pauldron were in comparison to the other guards, I pegged him as their personal protection.

I didn't know their exact relationship, but it was probably best to not be seen giving them too much of my attention in front of the Jarl. Still, wouldn't the safe and smart thing be to send them off to their rooms?

I focused on the people ahead of me instead of being bogged down by even more questions.

A balding man who looked like he belonged more in a Pet-store rather than a castle stood on the steps near the Jarl, carrying a sword easily as long as he was tall on his back. His body frame was such that I was legitimately worried that he was going to hurt himself carrying it. His face seemed to going through a storm of emotions, all of them strangled violently by another as they vied for control of his expressions-

Irileth stopped so suddenly I had to use flight to halt my momentum at an awkward angle before I quickly corrected my stance.

The elf turned to me, burning red eyes burrowing into my own blue.

"Stay." She growled, and it was prime Ashley hidden behind that semi-British accent.

Fuck you. And fuck you again for reminding me of her now.

I kept my emotions in control and nodded.

Her face twitched a bit, but she turned and strutted up to the Jarl.

The Jarl of Whiterun sat upon his throne, the leisurely way he was reclined on the seat jarring with my own cliched image of straight-backed royalty from old movies. Older than my Dad, thin but still surprisingly built muscle-wise, blond-haired and blue-eyed like myself. A thick beard draped to his collar bone.

He wasn't laced with jewelry - barring the small gold crown embedded with jewels - nor dressed in an extravagant robe. The Jarl settled for a more functional and slim-fitting shirt, pants, and fur-lined boots. Not even his throne was visually striking, simply a large chair with animalistic carvings down the front legs.

These were all nice things; his clothes looked as though they were some of the finest silk I'd seen, his fur shawl-cape was something I could imagine the more expensive heroes wearing, the crown was beautiful, and even his chair seemed like a nice piece of art...

But they lacked presence and I felt bad for feeling that way. Where I had been struck by the personality built into this castle, the Jarl was so much more lackluster compared to the heroes in my world. Hell, some of the people in this world felt like they carried more presence and power than he did.

Which was probably why he seated himself below the grandest piece in the castle. Above his throne, a skull large enough to devour a cow whole was displayed, fanged maw held over his head.

Dinosaur, was my first thought.

Dragon, was the one that stuck.

Fuck me.

"Back so soon, Irileth." The Jarl spoke, deep voice echoing through the hall, "And with a stranger. What kind of guest have you brought to Dragonsreach?"

"I've brought back the mage who's been causing a ruckus in our city Balgruuf. Turns out she's brought in Imperial soldiers for healing."

Balgruuf's eye's widened, "Imperials? In my city?"

Fuck me.

"They were dying." I hastily interrupted, "I swear I meant no harm in bringing them here, Jarl Balgruuf, only desperation to save as many lives as I could."

Irileth stepped forward, "You-"

"Halt, Irileth."

She paused, clenching her teeth, anger permeating her body as if she had an aura of her own.

Balgruuf stroked his beard, "Tell me, what battle do these Imperials hail from?"

"It wasn't-" I paused, forcing myself to consider how to phrase it and stared straight at the skull ominously perched above us all.

I sighed, "It was Dragons. They've destroyed Helgen."

There weren't as many gasps and hushed whispers as last time, but the chambers amplified the feeling of shock and horror in those words. Even though she'd heard it before, even Irileth seemed to have given up her anger for intense interest.

The Jarl stood up straighter in his chair, "You speak true?"

"As true as the skull above your throne."

He seemed to pale slightly, "Our scouts reported smoke in the far distance, but with the news of Ulfrics capture... by the gods, what of Ulfric?"

Well, I saved his life and helped him escape, and I'm not entirely sure that was the right choice to make now that I'm here.

Mhm. Better not.

"I don't know where he is now," I said truthfully. "I've talked with Captain Claudya, who confirmed that General Tulius is alive at least. The men I brought here were those who were at the epicenter of the attack, and there are more waiting. They might know more than I do."

Balgruuf leaned back into his seat, expression solemn, "If what you say is true mage, then you've done us a great service. Tell me, what is your name?"

I saw a ghost of a smirk on Irileth's face.

Great. She's got a sense of humor. "You can call me Antares or Victoria. I've gone by both names in my life."

Balgruuf frowned, "Either name is fine for you? I must admit, I do not understand."

Ah. I thought. This might be a bit tricky.

"Back in my... homeland," I said, "Antares was a title I had taken when I had to protect the peace and enforce the laws of my city. Many people never even referred to me as Victoria."

Irileth crossed her arms, "So you were some sort of fancy guard? With how uncaring you are of our border protection, I never would have guessed."

She sounds so satisfied.

Fuck her.

I shrugged, "You're not wrong. It was a bit more like a volunteer type of work, but being a guard sums it up well."

Balgruuf still seemed confused, "And what of your strange homeland, where they talk so... informally, if I may say. You have yet to give it a name."

Because it's a world away, hundreds or thousands of years ahead of you in time, where magic and elves and dragons can only be found in children series.

And because we never got the chance to name it.

Fuck me, where to even begin with that fucking mess?

I was saved by a cough.

Everyone turned to look at the bald man with the impractically large sword.

"Yes, Proventus?" Balgruuf inquired with an almost regretful tone.

"My Jarl," he spoke in a stuffy tone laced with nervousness, "I'm just as intrigued by our new guest and her news of Dragons as anyone. But have we forgotten of the little incident she's caused by bringing in Imperial troops into Whiterun?"

"I haven't."

He smiled in a way that somehow felt like a dismissal, "Of course you haven't, Irileth. I just want to reiterate that, by having provided aid to these men, we've opened ourselves up to allegations of siding with the Empire."

"We've turned them down more times than I can count," Balgruuf said, "All the Keeps know that Whiterun is neutral."

Proventus nodded, "I agree. But it would serve both sides purpose to point to this act of 'goodwill' via... Antares, and say that we've all but decided, once word gets out."

Irileth growled, "Then we hold our tongues."

"It's not our tongues I'm concerned with, Irileth."

I glanced around the chamber, noting all the guards and children in attendance.

Yeah, that could be an issue.

"Then we give them something else to talk about." Irileth put her hands on her hips, "Spin the tale so that we come out looking neutral, if we still wish to do so."

"I do," Balgruuf sighed deeply, "I am not deaf when I hear your reports on low supplies and raised prices of materials, Proventus. Tell me, Irileth, how would we change the story?"

She stood and spoke with pride at the question, "We keep the men here, in the Dragonsreach dungeons. They keep company with that foolish Arn, and we make sure everyone knows they've been temporarily imprisoned for trespassing. A few days pass, the Imperials pay a fine, they walk free."

No, I thought with horror.

"It could work," Proventus mused, "Tough, but fair, convey a strong image. Though I note you seem to have made an exception for our Mage 'friend' here."

Irileth regarded me for a moment, "I believe that should be up to our Jarl."

"I agree," said the Jarl. He looked at me, eyes searching as he stroked his beard, "To both of your reasonings. The men will be detained for a period until... payment."

He couldn't hide the flinch as he said it.

Don't you do it.

"As for you, Antares, your talk of Dragons has reminded me of old news from my court Wizard. Farengar is meeting with some of his 'associates' as he calls them, investigating the myths of Dragons as a hobby. I had often ignored his ramblings on such matters, but now it may be more prudent than ever to prepare. I would send you-"

"No."

Dead silence, and I had to admit there was a small amount of pleasure taken from it.

Balgruuf was the first to recover, "No?"

"No," I said, "I can't and won't be sidetracked. Not when I have more important things to handle right now."

"Impudent child," Irileth spoke, shock still in her voice, "You dare-"

"I already told you Irileth, there are people who will die if I do not return with the men I've brought"

I looked to the Jarl, pleading, "Not just the men at the camp, men with skin burned and stripped from bone-"

I heard a tiny 'yuck' from the table to my right.

"-but maybe even the men who vouched for me to save those men in the first place. If I can't return, then that's on me, but I'm taking these soldiers back like I promised. I'm sorry, but I can't be your errand girl."

More silence. Proventus was looking between me and the Jarl, sweat forming at his brow. Irileth was seething, dark muscles tensed.

The Jarl only looked on, deep in thought.

"And," he spoke slowly, "If I were to declare you all trespassers and sentence you to jail time?"

I raised an eyebrow, floating a few inches higher above the ground, "No offense, but you wouldn't succeed."

She was on me in a second and I barely reacted to the blur of movement that was Irileth drawing her blade.

My forcefield came up just as the tip of the blade poked out at my chin, and I could feel that chill creep slightly across where steel met energy field, expressed in sensations beyond touch.

The elf's blood red eyes glared into my own, ignorant of the six pairs of arms that surrounded her, waiting for any excuse to disarm and disable her as a threat. I could hear the guards encroaching on us, swords and shields drawn, armor rustling.

Don't make me have to hurt you guys. I don't want to.

"Halt!"

The sound of boots stopped, frozen by the order.

My aura was radiating from my core, careful to not exceed a certain range beyond the pair of us. We stayed like that for what felt like long hours, faces stern and glaring, neither one of willing to budge an inch.

She thought that if she had to, she could end my life here and now.

I knew that I could end this all in a second.

"Sheath your blade, Irileth." Balgruuf intoned from his throne.

She turned to him in shock, "Balgruuf-"

"Antares has a foresight that I can appreciate, even if her tone leaves something to be desired." His voice didn't waver, but the way his eyes moved between the two of us betrayed some level of nervousness. "Locking them away was never an option."

"And you knew that," I said, "You were testing me."

Irileth looked as annoyed and upset as I actually felt.

He smiled, but it was a tired one, "Always bait the riverbed for Slaughterfish before going for a wash, as my grandfather would have said. I knew you had steel, young Antares, but I wanted to see how it was molded. Speaking of, do sheathe yours Irileth."

She shook her head but followed his orders, sheathing the blade with the same blurring speed that she had drawn it. I had to turn off my forcefield to prevent her from unknowingly smacking a hand. Definitely did not want to start an issue about that.

Still, I reformed my forcefield, feeling more at ease with her enveloping my body than I had since bowing to the Dark Elf.

Said Dark Elf shot me one parting glare before retreating up the steps to Balgruuf, once more at his side.

Balgruuf looked almost apologetic, "Unfortunately, you were correct Antares. In order to save face, and likely my city, you might not be able to return for quite some time. Please, do hear me out still, if you will."

Should I? Absolutely.

Could I? My emotions were high, the adrenaline running even higher, and I had to admit I was pissed.

I couldn't let that emotion control me though. I had to deflate it with logic, note that it wouldn't help anyone if I were to cause a scene here any longer. Like always, I had to swallow that feeling of dissatisfaction for a the greater good.

Still, I let my aura out slowly, emotion seeping into my voice, "Don't test me like that, ever. If you want me to trust you for real. There are no more chances."

I could see the slight change in expression as he digested my words.

"Fair enough, Antares. Let us try this again.

 

[Ridtom]

Candlelight 2.3

⊙⊙⊙​

I watched from above as the ropes were tied around the wagons, invisible hands and teeth finding purchase on the twine and pulling taut to form knots, with more pulls testing whether the wood vehicles would handle the stress put on certain areas. Wood creaked where the stress was too much, and rope was untied then reapplied to better spread out the weight.

Test, assess, retest, apply.

Above myself, a smaller number of extremities worked to form a suitable harness out of the remaining ropes that would fit snuggly along a ten foot body with multiple heads and necks.

It was busywork, but not for me.

I winced as one pull of the rope saw a splinter of wood fall to the ground. Easy there friend. Treat it like you would my hair.

A knot being tied was unraveled, then retied again. Was it my imagination that saw it seem to pause in consideration? A trick of the light that made me want to believe it was moving slower?

No way to really tell, not with the way things were now. Our communication was stronger, but there was still that gap, that door that wouldn't open fully between Host and Symbiote. In a way, it was the same reason that talking to the Titans had been so fruitless, some missing puzzle piece that prevented everyone from getting the full picture.

I looked back toward the mountains from where we flew in from. The clouds blocked most of the view, but there was an unmistakable greyness that was blended into the scenery, ash and smoke mixing into the formations.

Back there, somewhere, I had been dropped into this world and held captive. Stripped of my arsenal, my costume, the things that made up who I was.

More importantly, they had taken me away from my team. My friends. My family. All of them trapped in a race against time as the world, every world, teetered on the brink of destruction.

My team was good, damn good, and I felt like I could trust them to pull through in some of the toughest of clusterfucks. But that did little to help soothe that irrational part of me, that tiny but loud voice who couldn't help but fret about how I wasn't insuring their safety as best I could while I was trapped here.

Everyone that died in the time since you've woken up here, said the voice, Might have had a chance if you had been there. Innocent civilians you've drafted for war will never find the peace they deserve.

You could never silence the voice, not completely, because it was always founded in truth. To say otherwise was to admit that my being there didn't matter, that nothing I did could make a difference for the best, because it was... it might have been hopeless.

I have to get back home. If I don't, I might go insane.

"Antares!"

If I had been on the ground, I might have jumped. Instead I felt my body tense and the ropes pull just a bit too taught, more wood crackling in response.

"Fuck, sorry!" I said, glancing down.

Irileth stood below me, hands on her hips, looking pissy as usual.

I lowered myself, adjust the harness and ropes along the way, manually taking control of the knots now.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Only once you've left my city," she said tersely. "In the mean time, could you not flagrantly break the law in my sight? I can practically hear the dungeons calling out for you."

I gave her a questioning look, "Why is flying even illegal? I can think of hundreds of benefits for the spell to be handed out."

The Dark Elf shook her head, "Pick your poison; a noble child falls to his death after his instructor goes lax in his teachings. An attempt to limit some discrimination from Mages to less knowledgeable common folk. Maybe no one likes to clean up after every fool who forgets to sustain their mana with proper potions or equipment."

She raised her chin, "Whatever the case, keep your feet on the ground until you've graced us with your exit."

I crossed my arms, "Look, I get it. You don't like me and I sort of don't blame you. It's a shitty situation-"

She sneered, "Were you raised by Hagravens? Never washed your tongue for your audacity?"

"I don't know what that..." I pinched the bridge of my nose, "My point is that I'm not happy about being here either. I have a home and friends who need me, far away from here."

"And yet, here you are."

"Yeah, here I am." I blew a lock of hair out of my face, "Against my will. Saving lives of people I don't even know, because what kind of person would just leave them to suffer and die?"

I paused, appraising her, "Or... would you?"

Irileth straightened, her face tense. "Just because I don't have a bleeding heart Antares, doesn't mean you have some moral high-ground. War is an ugly business, and yes, people will suffer and die by the hundreds or thousands. Which is why Jarl Balgruuf has kept Whiterun a neutral territory, where the most we have to concern ourselves with are the occasional bandit raids in the surrounding farms."

"A neutrality that you endangered by bringing them here."

She gestured to the surrounding plaza.

The Imperial soldiers had healed enough to be able to stand and walk now, and though many of them still had faint scars and bruises, none of them seemed to actually be in any pain at the moment.

The fourteen of them were haphazardly grouped around Invictus, the toady for Claudya I didn't know, and a bald guard with an unfortunate hair-style around the crown of his head.

Irileth and I had briefed Invictus about our deal with the Jarl, and now he and what was probably a fellow guard captain were breaking down things to the other soldiers in a similar way.

Does this potion heal mentally and physically? Some of them were half-dead.

"I already apologized for this." I murmured.

She shook her head, "Apologies don't fix everything."

"Yeah, and neither does complaining about it constantly."

Irileth scowled, "You're testing my patience."

I gave her glare right back, "Then leave me alone! Let me do what I need to do so that I can safely take them out of the city, and you can go back to doing... whatever you do in the castle."

"Something more important than you'll ever achieve in your life, child. Living and serving with honor."

She inspected the roped together carts with disdain, "Your departure will bring me great pleasure. Surmounted only by my never having to see you again."

I sighed and ran hand through my hair. I felt the dull pain at the side where the small burn was.

"That's the plan."

⊙⊙⊙​

Earlier

"Your plan is atrocious."

"What's wrong with making sure our city gets a bit more gold to go around in this deal?" His reply to Irileth came out almost like mewling. "Our walls are crumbling as we stand here in a palaver."

"Aren't you the one who tells me to have faith in our castle walls, Proventus?"

"Oh of course my Jarl." Now his voice all cheer. "But there is always room for improvement in certain respects."

I sighed at the back and forth banter, "I'm not guaranteeing anything when it comes to money. The best I can do is put in a good word for you guys, if they even listen to me."

Balgruuf gave a flat hmph, "If they as care about honor as much as they proclaim, the General won't turn a deaf ear to someone who's proven so useful to them."

"But please, give us more reason to just toss you all into the dungeon," Irileth said.

I frowned.

"Calm, Irileth." Balgruuf chided, "The time for aggression has passed."

"As you say, Balgruuf." Still, her eyes looked as cold as her blade when she turned back to me.

Ignore her. She wants to start a fight.

She's making it hard to resist too.

I glanced at Proventus as he penned the letter.

"You're writing down a lot more than I expected." I commented, "I'd think talking about the Dragon attack or this Dragon stone, and healing the soldiers would count for enough."

Proventus clicked his tongue, "Oh hardly. This Dragon business is simply the newest in a long line of troubles we've been facing lately. Why, it only last month that we got word of that Dwemer ruin in Winterhold being caved in. We had a few guardsmen decide that Adventuring in such places was the more lucrative career choice for them, leaving us with a smaller force and more funerals to be held."

"Not to mention the constant requests for more armor by the Battle-Born and Gray-Manes." Irileth added.

"Another friendship torn apart by this war." Balgruuf grumbled, eyes downcast.

"I'm guessing these two chose different sides?" I asked.

He nodded, "Aye, a pair of the oldest Nord clans in all of Skyrim. Descendants of the five hundred companions. Now bitter enemies who can't even have a drink in the same bar without causing a ruckus ending in blood."

Skyrim. I made a note of that. I'd heard it enough times to guess that this was the name of the nation or continent.

I nodded, "Sounds like you all have your hands full."

I could see Irileth's mouth twitch, visibly restraining herself from saying something. Probably a sarcastic remark to me.

"Oh, that's just a small sample of our trials here in Whiterun." Balgruuf intoned, "We've had brief reports from a visiting member of the Vigilants of Stendarr as well. It seems there have been increased numbers of Vampire raids for the smaller settlements of Haafingar Hold."

I paused for a moment, letting my mind catch up to what he had just said, not sure if I heard correctly. Not sure if I wanted to hear correctly.

"Vampires?"

"Aye, you know of Vampires, young Antares? Wretched beings inhabiting the darkest corners of the land."

I let out a long-suffering sigh, "Of course there are. Why wouldn't they be here too."

A thought came to me, "You wouldn't happen to have heard of Count Dracula have you?."

Balgruuf frowned, "Not that I recall, no. Should I have?"

"I don't know." I shrugged, honestly unsure, "He was big deal in my home when it came to Vampires. Not really important here I guess, since he doesn't exist.... exist anymore, I mean."

He nodded, "My heart goes out to anyone who has had to deal with the Vampire menace. I'm glad you were able to rid yourselves of him."

I nodded back, not entirely attentive as I considered what I had said.

Count Dracula was a fictional creature... right? I knew he was based off of a historical figure, a king of Turkey I think, but with the existence of this magical world... could he have actually been a vampire all this time?

Fuck me, I am not ready for these kinds of questions.

"Disgusting vermin." Irileth spat and broke me from my reverie, "The fact that they dare openly attack settlements now is unforgiveable. And the stronghold of General Tulius and Elisif at that!"

Proventus spoke up, "Just goes to show how worse off everyone is due to this fruitless war. Ourselves included, I might add."

Balgruuf growled, "Save your incessant lectures Proventus. You'll be getting your Imperial coin thanks to Antares here, so keep that in mind before you complain."

"I complain only to express my care for Whiterun, my Jarl," He rebuked, though not severely.

There were a pair of eye-rolls at that, including from Proventus himself in reaction.

I wasn't sure how to describe these three's relationship honestly. Sometimes their words were barbed towards each other, but never to a point where I felt anything close to dislike or detesting the other.

And was it my imagination that Irileth's defensiveness seemed a bit too... intense for just a knight and her Jarl?

Is she even a knight? Are Knights even a thing here? It wouldn't make sense that they weren't right?

Ugh. I couldn't help finding more and more to be reasons to be confused about this place.

"There!" Proventus proclaimed, folding the letter with a wax seal, "That should cover the costs of the potions, the healing administered by the Temple, a slight tax for the Hold of course-"

"Enough Proventus," Balgruuf interrupted, "Just give Antares the letter."

The old Jarl turned my way as his advisor did so, gently handing me the note.

"Keep that safe, Antares. It may potentially be the first step in your eventual return. Hopefully in better circumstances than these that you've found yourself in."

Irileth spoke, "Or made for yourself."

I had expected Balgruuf to lecture her again, but he leisurely leaned back into his throne.

"Farewell, Antares." He said almost regretfully, "May the Divines guide you to safety, wherever you may go..."

His eyes met mine, "So long as it is not here."

⊙⊙⊙​

Danica approached me, hands hidden within her robe sleeves, a tired smile on her face.

"I look forward to seeing you again, Victoria." She bowed slightly. Or do you prefer Antares?"

I smiled, "Victoria is fine, Danica."

"Not Antares? What's the difference if you don't mind my asking?"

"I-" I hesitated, struggling to phrase it, "It really doesn't matter. Both are fine."

She raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Then I look forward to seeing you again, Victoria."

"It might not be for a while. Like I said, sort of banned from the City."

Not that I'm complaining.

Danica smiled, "Then let Kynareth bless us with good will until such times have changed then."

My own smile grew. I had been nervous around her, still felt that a bit if I thought too much about the superficial similarities, but Danica had been good to me in the brief time I'd been here. She had stuck out her own neck to save my own, despite not really gaining anything from it.

If only everyone was like that.

"Will you be okay?" I asked, thinking of Irileth's anger, "You're not going to be punished because of me are you?"

"Oh, I'm sure Irileth will give me a lecture after you leave, but nothing too serious. I've helped her soldiers enough through some hard times after all."

I felt a weight off my shoulders at that. "As long as you're sure."

"Oh!" She reached into a side pouch along her rope belt, "I almost forgot!"

She pulled out a red vial, about as long as my index finger and only slightly wider. With the way the light hit the bottle, the liquid within looked a lot like blood.

"A token of goodwill from our Lady's temple," she said. "Kynareth shall preserve us."

I kept the smile on my face, even as I felt a chill run through me. It was with good intentions, the best of them really, but what I wouldn't have given to toss the vial as far as my super strength would have let me.

Just as she superficially reminded me of my sister, these vials reminded me of Cryptid and what he had allowed to happen to me. What he had done to me, using his "medicine".

I can never use this. Could never trust myself to this strange magic.

"Thank you," I said, pouring fake gratitude into my voice. "No offense, but I hope I never have to use it."

She waved me off, "None taken. Nothing wrong with having something just in case of course. Or if you'd like to take care of your burn. Just don't wait too long, or else the potion won't heal it properly."

That easily caught my attention.

I glanced at the bottle, "It has an expiration date?"

"A what?"

"Um, it wears out eventually if I don't use it?"

"Oh, no, don't worry about that." She smiled at the misunderstanding, "It's more that the longer you let a wound remain, the more likely you're inner self begins to see it as a part of you. Once that happens, you're going to need far stronger potions or magic to heal that wound."

"Huh," I said smartly. God, how I wished for a notebook to be jotting this information down now.

A cough caught both of our attention.

Invictus stood beside us, still covered in sweat and grime.

"I apologize for interrupting, but the men are loaded up Antares."

"There's no need to apologize." Danica raised her hands, "May you feel Kynareth's warm embrace in your travels."

He thumped his armored chest with a fist, "And for you as well, Priest."

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "If I can, I'll find some way to pay you back Danica."

She waved me off once again, smiling as she walked back to her temple.

A crowd was forming once again, despite Irileth and her guards holding a perimeter around us. For what it was worth, I respected her sense of public safety at least.

I felt my hands reach out and find the ropes, then the harness as it was placed around me.

"Did you warn them about the trip?"

Invictus grimaced, "As much as I could warn them about the... rare experience of a flying carriage. I'm very concerned that more than a few of them will lose their servings while I'm on board."

"I could always carry you like last time." I offered.

His expression was answer enough.

"Don't worry too much." I gave him a confident smile, "I'll be gentle."

⊙⊙⊙​

I had only just landed the two wagons, the wooden wheels buckling under the stress, when all fourteen men dove off of the sides and onto the ground below. This little portion of the camp was soon filled with the gagging of over a dozen men, most of them were just dry heaving as they'd lost their stomach's sometime within the first fifteen minutes of the flight.

It was just a tad bit overdramatic in my opinion, but I tried not to be too offended.

Invictus hopped off the wagon last, sandaled feet squelching as they touched ground.

"Stop your pathetic mewling you mutts!" He shouted, "On your feet maggots! Our brothers and sisters are depending on these potions, fighting Arkay's caress as we speak, and you're all retching like children forced to eat yer greens?!"

It was a slow process, but the sick men eventually found their legs and began making stumbling steps towards the wagon, reaching in roughly.

"Don't drop these!" I added, "Lives are at stake here and we can't afford to spill even a single drop!"

There was some grumbling and muttering at this, but I did notice they took their time in unloading the potions.

Invictus was hurling more abuse while he directed them to the sick and injured tents, while deposited the ropes to the ground, happy that the Fragile One's knots had actually held together.

A good feeling that didn't last long as I saw Claudya approach with her guard.

"Invictus." I said, catching his attention.

"Right." He rubbed a hand through his short hair, "Right. Let's face the gallows together then."

I grimaced, "I hope it doesn't come to that. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Never let it be said you aren't confident."

I had nothing to say to that.

Claudya and her troops stopped a short distance away. Thankfully, the bows remained firmly at their backs.

"Captain," Invictus gave a short bow. I followed his lead, doing the same.

She didn't seem to acknowledge him, keeping her eyes on me.

"You've finally returned, Antares." She didn't sound pleased, "I was beginning to think you reneged on your own deal."

I shrugged, "We got turned around a bit. And the Jarl of Whiterun wanted to address you or General Tulius if he showed up. Give you a heads up about some important political information."

My hand grabbed the letter from my fingers, carrying it across the seven foot distance Claudya kept from us.

Unimpressed, she simply snatched it from the air, glancing at it briefly.

"Hmm." She handed it off to her guard, who promptly left back the way he came.

She met my eyes, "Three more have died since you've left, Antares."

I had been shot in the chest, had my heart briefly stopped by electricity, and been nearly crushed to death by a Titan.

Those words hit just as fucking hard.

"Captain!" Invictus spoke rapidly, "Antares did her best to get our men proper medical attention! It was the-"

"It took some time to gather all the necessary healing supplies," I interruptedfeeling cold despite the forcefield. "They weren't prepared for our arrival and I did a poor job explaining the situation to them. They worked as fast as they could with what little time they had. I take full responsibility for that."

I was completely aware of Invictus shooting me a look, not understanding why I hadn't bothered to defend myself. I only hoped that he wasn't too obvious about it.

Claudya crossed her arms.

"I don't think I'm happy with your tone, Quaestor. An hour away, and you're already mouthing off to your superior officer?"

I glanced his way, just as he gave a short bow. "My apologies, Captain. The... flight there and back has left me rattled. Forgive my emotional state."

She rolled her eyes, "Find your boy Quaestor. He's been prattling on to the other men about your harrowing escape through the woods. Go to him before he talks his tongue off."

What is with you and tongues, lady?

Another short bow, "Aye, Captain."

Invictus moved on, not even giving me a glance back as he passed Claudya.

Now she gave me her full attention, one eyebrow arching under her helmet. I matched her with a look of my own.

None of us said anything.

Claudya gave me the impression that she was the sort of person who found it easy - no - natural to separate issues into 'us or them'. I imagine that it might have even been beneficial in the heat of an actual battlefield, when it came to considering what the best options were for her and her soldiers.

Yet I couldn't help but remember just how close she had came to filling two of her soldiers and a stranger with arrows. Threatening to cut Sevitus's tongue out. Her clear reluctance to accept my offer to help.

This civil war that was going on in 'Skyrim', it was tearing these people apart. I haven't even been here a full day yet, but with all differing perspectives and opinions that had been tossed my way, I'd have to have been blind to not notice that much at least.

Whiterun went into full panic mode just from me landing with slightly more than a dozen injured soldiers, going through desperate measures to try to show they were clearly staying neutral, and Claudya's emotions were running hot after dealing with a Dragon of all things.

If she learned about the hoops I had to jump through to get our asses back here, I had no idea how many ways she could go about fucking things up for everyone.

I wasn't willing to risk having her start something that couldn't be stopped.

Dealing with Deathchester had been the same, now that I thought of it.

Could we have beaten them? Yeah. I'd argue that we had been beating them, obviously so, even.

But could I have risked so many lives being lost if Damsel had let loose her power at the wrong time, started the cracks even earlier while Teacher had still been in action?

No. Hell, no.

I didn't feel like I was the kind of person to handle innocent lives so carelessly.

It couldn't have been more than a minute, but the silence between us felt like it stretched on forever.

It was petty, but her breaking it first felt like a needed win.

"What do you want."

I raised another eyebrow. That sounded more like a demand than a question.

She rolled her eyes again, "For your reward, Antares. You aided my soldiers despite your... circumstances, whatever they may be. To not give you something would be an insult to the Imperial creed, despite my better judgement. So. What do you want?"

I found it utterly incredible how someone offering a reward could make it sound like they were chopping of a limb against their will.

Fine. Fuck it.

"Decent clothes for starters," I said. "Some armor as well. A canteen of water and some food. Then a map of Skyrim."

"And?"

I blinked, "And... that's it."

She stared at me, disbelieving, "All you're asking for is some clothes, food, and a map?"

I shrugged, "It's all I'll need for now."

Claudya bit her lip in thought.

She shouted, "Heinricks!"

The soldier behind her stood at attention, "Captain."

"Lead Antares to one of the women's tents. They should have some leftover apparel for her, along with some food and a map within."

She gave me a searching look, "They might not fit exactly right, not without measuring you, but the Imperial gear is made to be slightly adjustable in any case. It'll have to do."

I nodded, "That sounds fine with me. Thank you."

Claudya snapped her fingers and the man named Heinricks turned on his heels, walking away at a decent pace. I flew after him, not wanting to lose him among these crowds of reds and brown leather.

Claudya's hand reached out and grasped my by the elbow. I could feel the faint pressure as her fingers dig into my bare skin, my mind momentarily seeing a red filter in my peripheral.

Don't kill her. I thought, eyes wide as I turned. Easy does it.

Her eyes were cold, like Irileth's, but there was a touch of shadows under her eyes that betrayed her stress.

"I don't know what your game is, Antares. I don't know why you've done all of this... this... charity." She hissed. "But I wasn't born on the morn. I want you gone by days end, do I make myself clear? You aren't wanted here."

I nodded.

She left go of my elbow, but found herself unable to move her wrist.

Her eyes widened as I flew in close, invisible grip on her armguard tight. My aura was at a low thrum, short range.

"Don't ever do that again. Please."

I kept my eyes locked onto hers, until she nodded ever so slightly, her face a mask of confusion and wariness.

I let her go. "Thank you, again. I'll be gone soon anyways."

With that I flew off, feeling my emotions boiling in the center of my chest, unrelieved at my brief outburst.

I tried to keep my expression neutral and devoid of the black thoughts that bubbles up as I caught up to Heinricks at one of the tents.

I must have failed, because he was quick to open the tent flap as I landed, not meeting my eyes.

Within was an older woman, arranging some clothing onto a nearby cot within. She saw whatever face I was making, instantly standing up and brushing grass off her dress knees.

"Can I help you with something dearie? I've got some washcloths and clean rags in the back if you-"

I shook my head, "Clothes and armor please. That'll be fine for me right now."

She was out of the tent in a flash, and I was alone with my thoughts.

It felt good to return the favor, didn't it?

Barely. Maybe if it had been Glory Girl. Now it just feels empty.

I had felt the same way when Shortcut had harassed me after our fight with Oberon and Skadi. There was an underlying enjoyment of shutting someone down, it was only natural to feel some catharsis.

But that feeling was tainted, knowing the kind of person who would default to those tactics. That wasn't being the bigger person like I wanted to be, just the opposite.

The tent flap opened once again, the old woman now carrying folded armor. Faster than I could thank her, she had layed the armor pieces and underlying cloth across one fo the cots.

I was admiring the leather craftsmanship for the top when she brought out the bottom half.

I couldn't stop the cringe at the sight of the leather skirt.

"Please tell me you have pants as well?'

 

[Ridtom]

Candlelight 2.4

⊙⊙⊙⊙​

Claw marks along my left arm where the acid centipede had found traction with its spines. On that same arm was the burned hand from my fight with Lung, trying to force the Fragile One to move the way I wanted by physically grabbing hot metal.

A closing of the fist and flex of the bicep felt both injuries twinge a bit. Not pain exactly, but a tightness that emphasized ongoing healing.

Good.

My right arm still had the scar from the bullet wound, a slight divot between bicep and shoulder where meat hadn't filled in the hole all the way. I would probably never have full strength in this arm again.

The skin on my hand was a dark-blue going purple around the edges where it had been stitched back on, connecting it with my arm-flesh in a haphazard way as the tissue reformed. I wrapped the hand and wrist in cloth, hopefully lessening the chance of infection, and noticed my fingernails.

Or lack of them, rather. My choice.

Still good.

Grabbing the hand mirror's wooden handle, I lifted up my bare chest with both hands, giving me a better view of the damage.

The purple bruising from raiding Teacher's base was subsiding slightly, but fighting the Titans had likely enflamed it enough that I would have to keep an eye on any major chest pains or trouble breathing.

A twist to the side for a better look with the mirror showed that the lacerations I'd gotten from Oberon were still red as hell, a pattern of cuts and rashes from arm-pit to hip.

Not deep enough to be a concern, just ugly to look at. Since I had them treated by Uncle Mike, I doubted infection was going to be an issue.

I'd still have to be wary of any hits landing on my ribs and side.

I had already felt the twisted muscle in my foot from Skadi and rubbed the chemical burn along my hairline from Fumehood. A bit of work with the mirror showed a vague star shape of pink skin, a small patch of no hair at my temple.

If I wanted to, I could probably comb over it with my 'luscious locks', as Crystal once teased about my hair in her overly-dramatic way. I decided to let it remain visible for now.

I have all the injuries I accumulated in my career. The war wounds I've earned fighting the good fight for my city and my team.

I smiled.

It was probably the best thing to happen to me since arriving here. My costume and weapons might have been taken from me, but whatever or whoever dropped me into this fucked up world couldn't take away what was really mine.

It wasn't perfect. I still had lingering suspicions about what Amy had... done to me while I was passed out in her care, but I had a torn off fingernail to prove that I could make this body of cats and dogs my own.

And a friend who can help me along the way.

Fingers ran lightly through my hair in place of a brush. Soothing. Comforting in a sense.

There was a slight draft where a bottom tent flap hadn't been completely nailed down in the rushed construction, and I shivered as goosebumps sprung up along my body.

Even within the forcefield, all it did was prevent me from getting colder rather than actually warming up, and staying like this was bound to catch me a cold eventually. As I rubbed my arms to regain some circulation and warmth, other hands grabbed the clothing that had been given to me by my hosts.

The new bra and panties were similar to the ones I had woken up with on the cart to Helgen along with the prisoner clothes, an ugly yellow-brown that seemed to be made of wool rather than silk or softer cloth like I preferred. I tried not to think about the implications of that situation as I slipped the pair on with invisible hands.

For what it was worth, they fit snug around my frame, but I could already imagine how any fast paced movement would lead to a raw chaffing nightmare in unfortunate locations. I debated just going commando for a fraction of a second before moving on, not wanting to get sidetracked over such a minor annoyance.

The armor they had given me was next, the same kind that Invictus and Sevitus wore, all leather with buckles down the middle for the straps and softer cloth serving as a second layer underneath. The woman who delivered these called them 'light armor', the kind given to every foot-soldier in the army.

It was better than the rags I had woken with, but that wasn't saying much honestly. It certainly looked functional, but if I had to compare it with my golden armor, designer hoodie, and battle cloak... well I was just setting myself for disappointment no matter what.

Deft hands unbuckled the straps and I stepped into the armor, feeling the inner cloth embrace artificial skin as the hands pulled the buckles across my chest. I winced at the sudden pressure, feeling the ache resonate down to my bones. Claudya wasn't lying when she mentioned that it wouldn't fit exactly right. My tits were squashed tight by the armor-turned-corset and I was slightly frantic in adjusting the buckles to try and alleviate the pressure.

I felt my breathing soften as I found that sweet spot.

After the pain in my ribs subsided, I rolled my shoulders and turned from side to side a few times, testing the armor's flexibility. Still a bit stiff, but more due to being unworn till now, rather than any actual faults in the material itself.

The pants were next, the old woman having found some in some spare tent supplies, which I was eternally thankful for. It wasn't like I was ardently against skirts or dresses in combat; Ashely made her cocktail-dress costume work and I had worn a skirt as Glory Girl myself.

But I found the idea of a skirt and armor combo to just be a ridiculous pairing, style-wise, especially when it came to exposure in all meanings of the word.

It didn't help that some of the rougher kids on the Patrol Block had made it something of crude joke to imply mini-skirts as a uniform change whenever a female member happened to be nearby. The good ones had shaped up and could maybe one day match up to Gilpatrick and Jasper as men. The bad ones didn't always last long, but some did, unfortunately.

In any case, these Imperial leather-skirts weren't the worst I'd seen and I could even bet they offered some protection against glancing blows, but... no. Just no.

The pants were the same rough material as the prison rags, but dyed to a darker brown that wasn't bad on the eyes, and a softer inner layer for added warmth. It was apparently meant for larger men, hanging dangerously loose even with my hips, but using the belt that had come with the abandoned skirt solved that issue easily enough.

The looseness of the pants reminded me of my own red pair back home, the ones I had bought in remembrance of Dean. Looser clothing always brought to mind being embraced.

Five year old me huddling together with Dad on rainy nights, spooning with Dean while wrapped in his comically fluffy blankets, pressing myself against Ethan on that too-small cot only a few hours ago...

The smile on my face felt melancholy as I put on the accessories; leather braces with metal studs, rags, and leather boots.

The rags were of softer material than anything else I had gotten my hands on in this world before, almost like fluffy socks. I had asked the old woman whether these were meant to be wrapped around my feet like said socks. She gave me a look of total incomprehension before shaking her head and pointing to my pelvis, one eyebrow arching.

It took me a second to connect the action with the intent and I felt my ears grow hot. I had calmly thanked the woman as she left, casting one last confused look at me before departing.

Now I put the rags into one of the pockets of the my pants next to Danica's vial, hoping to all that was good and just in the world that I would be home before ever having to use either of them.

Working the boots on gave me some issues with my injured foot, but once I was able to squeeze past the pain, they fit well enough. The lack of socks was an odd sensation, but the boots were padded enough that it didn't feel gross. It went without saying that my old boots I'd scavenged the end of the world for were still sorely missed.

The Fragile One went to work running her hands through my hair as gently as she could, tying off my braid with Danica's strap as a finishing touch. My little hand mirror wasn't great at getting the full picture, but I definitely felt more whole than I had been while running around in a potato sack.

I caught my own eye in the reflection and moved one of the many invisible faces over my own, feeling the mold match perfectly with both touch and powered senses.

"We're going to find our way home" We said, mouths moving in sync. "We're going to save our friends and our world."

Powers were all about headspace and mine was especially tuned to my desires. I wanted her to understand the gravity of our situation and share that resolve with me.

I waited for a reply, any sign of movement on my alien friend's part.

There was none.

I guess that'll have to do, right?

Fully dressed, I turned off my aura, no longer relying on it to keep any curious peepers from getting a free show. Stepping out of the tent, I kept myself to my little float-walk, not wanting to instigate another altercation with Claudya or her lackies.

Which is why I was surprised to see two soldiers guarding my tent, for a definition of it anyways. Both them were breathing heavily and reeked with sweat. When I passed by, one of them practically jumped out of their skin, while the other stumbled back at my presence, nearly tripping over himself.

Damn it. They must have been just at the edge of my aura for some time now.

"Lady Antares," the one who jumped breathed out. His hand was on the handle of his sword, shaking slightly, "You surprised me. Us."

"Sorry about that," I said and meant it. I only wanted to scare off anyone who got too curious, not make these two poor guys suffer. "Claudya sent you two here?"

"Aye." He said. He was regaining some color to his face. "To make sure you leave without any trouble."

I raised an eyebrow at that, "She thinks I'll cause trouble? Gratitude doesn't go far here does it?"

He shifted uncomfortably, "Our Captain has to remain ever vigilant in these trying times, Lady Antares. New threats have bared their teeth in unexpected way this sad morn."

"I'll take that as a no then."

My 'guard' pressed his lips into a thin line, caught between a frown and a scowl.

I crossed my arms, "Whatever. I was promised a map, food and some water before I go."

The soldier behind me spoke up, his voice reedy, "I don't know about any maps, but we can get you situated at our supply tent. You go on your way, no hassle, and everyone's blessed for the better when the Captain improves her mood."

I turned to him, "And my map?"

He shrugged, "Bound to be one somewhere."

Great. I traded Invictus and Sevitus for tweeddle-dumb and tweeddle-dee.

I gestured for him to lead the way and he about faced, walking quickly through the muddied grass. I followed, keeping my feet less than an inch off the ground, noting how tweedled-dumb kept close behind me. For his part, tweedled-dee kept glancing back my way every few feet, and always quickly turning back when he notices that I can plainly see him doing so.

I rubbed the bridge of nose and sighed. I felt bad about not feeling as bad as I should about blasting these two with my aura, but they were making it really fucking hard to manage.

Thankfully, we didn't have to walk far enough for me to stew in those conflicting emotions.

Coming from the opposite direction were Invictus and Sevitus, the former drinking heartedly from a glass bottle while the latter carried a plate of food in one hand and a leather pack in the other.

I picked up my pace when they saw me, incorporating a bit of skip into my step as my flight compensated for my foot, leaving my guard detail behind to their surprise.

Sevitus beamed as I approached, "Antares! It is good to see you return!"

"And prancing like a maiden." Invictus added, wiping his mouth with his arm. His breath smelt slightly of alcohol as he spoke, "Healed your leg have ya?"

I shook my head as I slowed to a stop, "Sort of cheating a bit with the 'no flying' rule. Don't tell on me?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He took another hearty swallow of his beverage, "I've had enough of the Captain chewing me out for one mission, Stendarr preserve me."

I looked at him, really looking at him since we had separated twenty minutes ago. He had washed his face but it was in a very unorganized way, streaks of ash and dust left in lines where the water had cut through but not actually cleaned. His eyes were red from the smoke, but I couldn't imagine that beer or wine he was drinking would help on that front.

He just looked so tired.

"Are you-" I paused as the rattling of armor and boots approached.

Tweedle-dumb on my right and Tweedle-dee on my left, both breathing heavily.

"Questar Invictus," Tweedle-dumb greeted with a short bow. Tweedle-dee followed suit.

"Atticas. Romulas."

Invictus glanced over the trio of us, "You've traded us for them have ya?"

I shrugged, smiling a bit, "Claudya thinks I deserve some personal attention. Seems like I might cause some mischief."

"I never said that." Tweed- Atticas said.

"I can imagine what the Captain said." Invictus gave a rueful grin of his own, "I imagine mischief was the least offensive word used to describe you."

Atticas looked like he had to physically bite his tongue. Romulas just looked lost.

"Tell you what men." Invictus took another swig, "Me and my boy will take it from here. We've known Antares for a bit now, and I think I can see when she gets an odd thought or two in her head."

I smirked, "Oh, do you now?"

"Oh I do," He nodded very gravely. The beer in his hand sloshed as he pointed at me, looking at the guards. "She gets that twinkle in her eye she does. Tilts her chin in the way that makes you think she's sizing you up, and then she raises one golden brow like so-"

He gave an exaggerated arching of an eyebrow, eyes wide to the point of looking ghastly with how red they were.

"-and then she starts talking and making sense. Fills your head with these funny thoughts about flying you miles above Nirn to save time, or breaching neutral territory to get some much needed aid. But let me tell you now men, all that sense falls out one ear or another when you're being pulled faster than any horse and the head-winds threaten to tip the wagon and pour you out to the unforgiving crust like dirty mead."

At this, he tipped his bottle down, letting the foamy liquid splash against the torn grass below.

"Should I feel insulted?"

Invictus waved me off, "I got fourteen good soldiers who got to throw up their morning stew, where such things would be wasted in the guts of the dead."

"But!" He pointed at the two guards, making them back up slightly at the force of it, "That's the kind of thinking and doing that our Lady Antares likes to rope us into! Now, you men both got strong character and iron wills-"

I couldn't help but notice that they were still pale from his mead interpretation of our wagon trip. Sevitus was resolutely keeping a stone cold expression.

"-And I hate to take this duty given to you both from our honorable Captain. But if you want someone with an experienced eye for these signs and a hardened stomach, I will gladly take over from here for you both."

Neither of them looked completely convinced, but it was clear that they were wavering.

"I won't tell the Captain if you won't." Invictus gave them a smile that looked like he was deeply uncomfortable with the act.

It seemed to have worked though, with both men giving the other a look, and wordlessly walking on towards the food tent.

The smile dropped from Invictus's face as soon as they passed. He looked longingly at his empty bottle while Sevitus broke out a far warmer smile.

I crossed my arms, chin tilted up in exaggeration. "I guess I owe you one now."

"Bah," He tossed the bottle to the side of the grass, "We were going to replace them anyways. Captain's orders, with my convincing. Just decided to have a bit of fun with it is all."

I rolled my eyes.

"You look great!" Sevitus blurted out suddenly, "With the armor I mean. Like a real Imperial!"

Invictus sighed deeply.

I couldn't help but smile, "Thank you, Sevitus. Sorry I didn't say so before, but it's good to see you too."

The smile on his face made him look so much younger than I guessed him to be, not helped by how much cleaner he was compared to Invictus, looking like he'd actually taken time to wash out all the grime he'd collected. More than that, it served to emphasize just how different in appearance he was to his 'father'.

He spoke in an excited whisper, "Is it true that you stared down the Jarl's personal guard until they acquiesced to your demands?!"

"Not what happened," Invictus murmured.

"Definitely not what happened," I agreed, "Besides, your Dad was the one who did a lot of the work back there."

Invictus shrugged as his son gave him a questioning glance.

I gave Sevitus a serious look of my own, "Please don't go spreading those rumors around. I literally just got here, but I can tell that things are fragile between Whiterun and your Empire. No need to get things even more muddled."

"My lips are sealed," he said equally seriously, "Da's already sworn the men to secrecy on how tough you had it there."

I gave Invictus a surprised look, "And they'll keep it?"

He shrugged, "Enough that I don't think it'll be much of an issue for now. I leave the future to prophecies and prophets."

Prophets brought to mind the mountain-sized enemy to mankind that was roaming free in my world, leading alien forces while still communicating something with the Simurgh in ways that no human could possibly understand.

The goosebumps that ran up my flesh this time had nothing to do with the cold.

"The Captain told us you were hungry, Lady Antares." Sevitus held out the plate, "Would you like some Goat Roast and Boiled Cream?"

My nose was assaulted with the scent of cooked meat and suddenly I was back in the Warden HQ, forcing myself to devour some of the best chicken I'd ever eaten, all the while fighting that impending sense of doom in the forefront of my mind.

"I'm absolutely famished," I said, forcing a smile as I took the plate. The boiled cream looked almost like a glazed donut, but with egg yolk or butter on top. I wasn't a fan of the former if that was the case, but I wasn't going to turn down a free meal from someone being considerate.

I paused, "Do you guys wash your hands? You.... You know what germs are right?"

Invictus looked appalled, "What do you think we are, Argonians? Of course we clean our hands. Who would eat with dried blood and feces on their hands?"

"I would have taken a yes," I mumbled, grabbing that bit of meat. I would save the cream not-donut for later.

"There's more in the sack," Sevitus said excitedly, showing me the satchel-pouch thing. "Mostly salted goat meat, but I was able to get some plums in there as well. And the water liver of course. With my own liver, we can make the trip to the border in a day's time-"

I was in mid-bite on the small goat meat when his words caught up to me.

I swallowed, "We?"

He paused, mid-rummage, looking up at me in surprise.

"Well, yes. Claudya told us you'd be leaving, and we both knew you came from the border of Cyrodiil. I'll be going with you, since you aren't familiar with the area and the path there isn't marked on most maps."

I shook my head, "Sevitus, I can't- Look, you and your father have done enough for me-"

"Don't be dragging me into this," Invictus almost growled. He turned to his son, "I told you boy, it was a fool's thought in the first place."

"It's not about being a fool or not." I gave Invictus a sharp look, "I really do appreciate the offer. But I think it's best that I don't cause anymore waves with Claudya, not while things with Whiterun are so fragile."

"I wouldn't be missed!" Sevitus insisted, "I've been talking to the men in the camp while you two were gone, and they aren't going to be moving on for at least another two days! The time it'll take for me to guide you there and then come back will be a day and half at most. Father will be waiting for me-"

"Never agreed to this."

"-Father will send some men to wait for me past Helgen on the day I return."

Said father just harrumphed.

I bit my lip, thinking of how to put this nicely. "Sevitus, where I'm hoping to go, it's not just across the border. It's... not a place any one of you would know, and the area around it could be dangerous to say the least."

I was thinking of how space-time would twist to the point that my own forcefield was shredded apart. Invisible and without any warning, whatever portal was used on me could be littered with these dangers.

I didn't want to see what would happen to a person who walked into one of those, let alone a kid like Sevitus.

Sevitus frowned, seemingly deep in thought. He reached into the pack, rummaging a bit before pulling out a roll of paper.

I could guess what it was.

He unfolded the map in front of me, eyes over the top of the paper. "Can you point me at the Skyrim part of it?"

I looked over the map.

I blinked.

I looked over the map a second time.

"What the hell?"

Invictus peeked over, "Is he holding the damned thing upside down again?"

"No, I-" I looked at him, "Is this the map of the continent?"

He gave me an odd look, "That's Tamriel, clear as day. Obviously a bit bigger than the paper of course."

I looked at the map again, biting my lip as I took in the image.

What the fuck?

It wasn't a continent that I recognized, not unless I imagined it to be some supercontinent like Pangea. I was no stranger to alternate Earth's with different geography. Earth Aleph didn't have the mountain range that helped form Brockton Bay in Bet for example, and Shin was the result of a land-bridge for ancient man existing for far longer than my Earth.

But wouldn't something like this continent require even more drastic changes to how the world was formed in billions of years than either? I wasn't an expert by any means, but was it wrong to feel that something was off here?

Of course there is. This world has magic in it.

Oh. Right.

I felt my panic recede. Only slightly, but still.

Powers arriving had altered the way of life on my world in unique ways, some more obscure than others when it came to damage being done. I didn't even have the basics when it came to understanding magic, so who knows how the world had been affected by it's use for god knows how long?

More importantly for my situation now, I really did have no idea where to go from here.

I glanced at Sevitus, and then to his father.

The former caught on immediately and his frown deepened.

I sighed, "Prepare your horse Sevitus. I guess you're my chaperone for the day."

He crumpled the map in a way that made me feel bad for it's creator, excitement at the edge of his voice, "Truly, Lady Antares?"

I gave him a small smile, "Truly. You made your point loud and clear. Got me good."

He laughed good naturedly.

Then he seemed to remember where he was, coughing awkwardly when he noticed his father's stare.

"I'll... I'll go get my things then. Father-"

"Go on," Invictus drawled, "Before she changes her mind and leaves you here in annoyance."

Sevitus seemed slightly panicked at that. He gave his father and I a bow before running off, nearly slipping in a particularly nasty patch of mud.

I crossed my arms, bandaged finger tapping at one arm.

"I'm sorry." I said, putting real regret into it. "I didn't want him to come along... but I need to get back home. And I need his help to do it."

"I overheard the Dark Elf as she was talking to you." He said nonchalantly. "She said sorry doesn't fix everything, right?"

I sighed, "She was right. It really doesn't. Only actions can do that, and only sometimes."

He hummed, but didn't say anything.

Silence, for a moment.

I had to ask, "Are you drunk?"

"Aye."

"The meeting with Claudya was that bad, huh?"

He sighed, "Aye."

I winced, "How bad?"

He was thoughtful for a moment.

Was it wrong to wonder how much of the moisture in his eyes was due to alcohol?

"I'm due to lose my position most likely." As if he was talking about the weather, "The boy should be fine, not like they can afford to send him back to Cyrrodiil, but my career is effectively over for now. Only reason I'm not taking his place is because he couldn't lie to save his life without some guidance. He'd be executed for desertion and I'd be given the same treatment one I returned. At least while I'm here I can use what leftover clout I have to keep some keen eyes and ears shut."

Christ.

"I'm so sorry, Invictus. If I had known-"

He waved me off again, "You would have found some other way to do some good. I've barely known you a day, Antares, but I've caught on to that much about you. You aren't the kind of warrior to leave things be, not when you think there are better ways. It took the clarity of some flat mead, but I see now that you were trying to keep Ulfric from killing me and the boy, right?"

I nodded reluctantly, hoping I hadn't hurt his pride.

"Aye," He nodded back. "You saw the bigger picture and took steps to keep it in your mind. The boy is right about how you could be an Imperial. Despite lacking half of the armor course."

I played with the hem of the chest piece, "Skirt didn't really suit me, no offense."

"If you meant to offend me," he deadpanned, "You'll have to try harder than that."

I gave him a small smile.

We stood in companionable silence for moment, looking to where Sevitus had gone for his horse and pack. The camp was filled with the sounds of meaningless chatter and the stomping of boots, the clanking of metal on earth.

There was a sense of restlessness in the air, the men and women here antsy about their next orders, and I felt that restlessness add to my own tension. The desire to fly off now and never return was stronger than ever, held in place by the reality check Sevitus had given me about how hopelessly lost I'd be.

Invictus broke the silence this time.

"He's all I got. My sister found that boy crying in the gutters, and she called it a miracle that he wasn't Skeever food. She didn't raise that boy more than a year before she lost her head against those damned elves. I've... I've done all I can for him, good and ill."

I nodded, "I'll keep him safe Invictus. Anything or anyone tries to hurt him, they'll have to go through me."

"Can you?" His voice was grave enough that I had to look, "Keep him safe? There isn't much left to tie me to this realm. My loyalty to the Empire is one. The boy is another, Antares. If I lose him-"

"You won't."

He tried to challenge my gaze with that cold eye of his, but there was no give. There was no pushing back against this promise, because it was only a facet of the whole, the larger part of what drove me to save as many people as I could.

Because those people deserved copacetic lives at the least, spent safe with loved ones, and every life that was lost was my personal failure as a hero that I refused to forget.

Invictus nodded. "Men will be waiting past Helgen in a day and a half. If he isn't there, then I'll do everything I can to make you regret it."

I didn't need to say anything as he turned away.

The look in my eyes was answer enough.

 

[Ridtom]

Candlelight 2.5

⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙​

My day had gotten off to a rough start.

I had been sick and grieving and sick with grief. Dinah's prophecy had been dropped into our laps while my team and I had been recovering from the lowest point in our lives. Minutes later we had to fight Deathchester and deal with Damsel's whole fucked up situation. Then I had to take Kenzie to her teammates and narrowly avoid having to murder some kids who would have done worse to her.

After that was our journey into the Dream Room, where I had been lacerated to hell and my skin was melted off while facing an Alien Avatar of Death and Destruction.

From there it was traversing the Shard-Realm, finding out just how far ahead Teacher was in starting his own apocalypse. While down there I had seen... 'truths' presented to me from the Network, things about my family and loved ones that I should never have known.

Maybe had been better off not knowing-

I felt fragile but powerful finger nails comb through the side of my hair, scratching an itch I barely knew I had. I dismissed them, feeling them vanish in mid-comb.

- Maybe not.

I fought and defeated the mutated Teacher, staving off the apocalypse for a few more hours. From there, me and my team were sort-of-but-not-really held under Warden supervision, while Amy and Chris had revealed their fucking giants to play a part in Shin's wargames. I had to talk down my lunatic sister with promises I didn't want to keep and I had to deal with Eric while that was happening.

It wasn't a bad thing, but I had also found some closure with Anelace for most of an hour, which was an exhausting hurdle itself.

Eric broke my phone and the anti-parahumans broke Fumehood, and thus broke the world. I spent hours fighting Oberon, Skadi, and unfortunately Fumehood, getting majorly fucked up for my troubles. I had to deal with the scenario of us not being able to fight back the Titans and that my Uncle Mike's family will never have another get together. I forced myself to sleep, a short and restless affair, and from there I asked humanity to fight with us Capes to defend our reality.

Innocent men and women were killed while I fought on the frontlines, dying as heroes, but dying all the same.

And then... I woke up here. After more than twenty-four hours of fighting and near death scenario's, one would expect sleep to have rejuvenated me on some level, granted my mind some much needed clarity.

There was nothing like that. It didn't even feel like I had been at rest. If anything, it felt as if a portion of my life had been skipped over or discarded, transitioning the me from then on the battlefield, to the me on the cart to Helgen.

Like the difference between a mover who can run faster than sound and one who simply apparated from A to B, the latter left me in a weird state of time, mentally.

Was I tired?

My body was sore and bruised, my adrenaline was spiked after having a meteor shower dumped on top of me, and my mind was still racing a mile a minute trying to figure out how the fuck magic was tied into the Cycle and what that meant for powers.

If I was tired, then it was in a distant fourth place to literally everything else I was feeling at the moment.

The young man saddling his horse next to me didn't look tired either. Sevitus had taken some more time to clean himself and his armor, the sweat and grime from the forest fire was about seventy percent gone now, and he was smiling with anticipation. It was weird how he looked like he could be a year or two older than myself, but 'young' felt so attached to how I saw him now.

"Aren't you tired?" I asked. "How long have you been up?"

Sevitus seemed surprised at my question, but his boyish smile was back in a second, "I had a spare stamina potion from my last trip back home. It wasn't a large one, but I feel like I got a solid nap. You don't need to worry about me falling off my horse like a new squire."

Huh. Well, damn.

"Color me jealous then. Wasn't exactly a comfortable nap for me when I woke up."

He flinched, "Does your head still hurt from where I struck you?"

"Nope. Don't even feel a thing." Which was true. I had inspected my body from head to toe earlier, and besides the war-wounds I was physically fine. The only injury close to my head had been the chemical burn at my side.

Sevitus smiled, "That is good news then. Finding my steed safe and sound was another boon."

The horse below him huffed out a breath and he laughed.

I chuckled, "Seems she agrees. And what a beauty."

"Aye!" Sevitus agreed enthusiastically, "Have you experience with horses Lady Antares?"

"Just Antares, please." Lady reminded me too much of Director Piggot and it felt wrong to take her call-sign. "I used to ride horses with my Aunt, years ago. It was her favorite hobby."

I inspected his ride, "She's a... Palomino?"

"Aye, her breed was brought to Skyrim alongside the first of men." He sounded very proud of that fact. He patted the side of his mount, "This one here is Daisy. Got her a winter ago while breaking in a new herd, and she's taken to me ever since. Have to admit, Divines have mercy, I was just as worried about Daisy's fate as I was with General Tulius."

I smiled, gently brushing a hand down her snout, "Hi Daisy."

No response, but I counted the flickering of her ears as a 'How do ya do'.

Sevitus was looking at me curiously, "Were your family Ranch Hands, before you became a Mage?"

I shook my head, "Not a mage. And no Ranch either. Just a hobby."

He opened his mouth, likely to ask another question, but I held up my hand. "We should go now. I don't have a watch on me now, but it feels closer to noon than I would like."

Sevitus glanced upwards, squinting a bit before nodding, "Aye, time is slipping while we palaver. Would you saddle with me?"

"I think that would be too noticeable for when we leave." I didn't bother to mention that I was pretty sure riding would play hell on every ache and bruise on my body. "I can fly alongside Daisy, keeping close so that at least one part of the camp won't notice me leaving with you."

"That would be better, wouldn't it." If he sounded a bit disappointed, I elected to ignore it.

I looked around, searching for a specific person.

"My father won't see us off."

I looked at Sevitus.

He smiled sadly, "He's always hated goodbyes, even for when he went out to the merchants. He won't be around to watch us leave."

I could recognize the feeling in that smile and in those words, "I'm sorry Sevitus. I'm sure he cares about you, it just... sometimes its scary to see someone go."

Sevitus shook his head, "My father fears nothing. He's a model Imperial."

What the hell do I say to that?

I could imagine how Jessica might have felt, listening to me talk about my Mom or Dad, and how I saw them compared to reality.

"In any case, he was able to pack us some coats and blankets for the trip." Sevitus deflected, "Pale Pass gets a bit windy as we travel through the mountains."

"Odd to think it would only take a day and a half for you to get back." I commented.

He smiled, "Daisy will get us there, won't you girl?"

The horse, unable to speak English, did not deign to reply.

"I like her confidence." I said.

He laughed as I got around her side, floating up so that my body was parallel to her body.

Let's go.

⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙​

We traveled as fast as we possibly could for a good hour, silent as we made the trek back towards Helgen. We weren't insane enough to go through the route leading directly to the still burning settlement, which meant long detours through the brush to cut into less-traveled roads.

I did my part in clearing away the worst it, working with the Fragile One to swipe away branches and fallen logs that barred Daisy's path.

Daisy, giving credit where it's due, put in the work for the first few hours of constant travel. She wasn't a breed meant for speed, but I knew most horses would not have lasted nearly as long on paved trails, let alone while having to weave through trees and on roads that looked as though they might have been used once decades ago.

Still, it was glacially slow progress for someone like me, trapped at barely a quarter of my real flight and with this fucking ash cloud above our heads. The lack of speed meant that more of the ash from the sky had time to cover the Fragile One, giving my forcefield a vague outline of soot, sliding off only for more to take it's place.

Folds in the skin meant buildup of ash that wouldn't easily slide off, which meant I had to adjust her positioning to dump them out.

Sevitus never noticed, eyes focused only on preventing Daisy from injuring herself and holding his fur coat to his nose to keep the worst of the ash at bay.

The dark clouds hung ominously over us even as we passed the territory around Helgen, and even though the ash eventually ceased to fall around us, it was easy to see how it corrupted the sky beyond. What should have been a bright afternoon remained a solemn shade of morning, refusing to let us have any reprieve or taste of needed sunlight.

By the time we began to see deep bans of snow off the trail, black clouds began to form grey, and Sevitus had slowed Daisy to a trot.

An hour of that and he suggested letting her take an hour break, giving him time to feed and water her before continuing on the journey. As much as I wanted to say no, to beg him to push her another hour, I couldn't conscience having him or his horse run ragged. So I agreed, helping him set a makeshift camp and unload thin logs of firewood while he had Daisy settled in and grazing.

He offered me a blanket as the fire began to grow and I accepted, wrapping it around myself and keeping the forcefield off to allow the heat to reach me. With Sevitus finding a log to sit on and me floating a foot off the air, I knew what was coming.

Questions.

And he had a lot of them.

What was the name of my home?

Earth, which he was surprised by, as he felt strange for a place to name itself after the ground they walked. I wasn't entirely surprised by that, since Shin had a different name for their Earth as well, and specified that it was technically called Earth Gimel. I expected him to ask what that meant, but he seemed more interested in moving on.

What are the people of Earth Gimel like? Did they all look like me?

We had people of all shapes, sizes and color, which he understood. He was floored by the idea of my home having no Elves of any kind, beyond fairytales and stories, as though I told him the sky was purple and the moon was made of cheese. No Argonians or Kajeet, which were apparently half-lizard and half-cat people.

Argonians… well, I had seen some shows that talked about how if Dinosaurs hadn't gone extinct, they could maybe have evolved into humanoid size. Half-cats though? I couldn't really wrap my head around that and I almost didn't want to try and envision what that would look like.

Did we have Gods? Oh yes. Hundreds depending on what you believed.

What did I believe?

I... didn't know how to answer that. He saw my hesitation and moved on.

What did my home look like?

This one was far easier and I gave my best recollection of my flights over Brockton Bay and the Megacity, trying to express how beautiful the whole looked when you were disconnected from the individual pieces.

"Castles hundreds of feet high as far as the eye can see..." He spoke dreamily, as if I had told him that my world was made of gumdrops and ice-cream, rather than impressive feats of engineering.

He didn't want to use 'skyscraper', finding it a terrifying word to use, and... yeah it kind of was when I thought about it.

I didn't have it in me to tell him that a lot of those 'castles' were toppled by our greatest hero giving in to his alien nature, and that what we left were shoddy imitations from that time. I especially couldn't bring myself to mention that even those imitations were desolated despite my best efforts.

"My turn for a question." I said. "You seemed to know a bit about Magic when we first met."

He gave me a questioning look, dreams of skyscrapers forgotten. "Aye, I know a bit. Everyone knows a trifle amount, and the Empire makes sure it's troops know what to look out for in battle. I would say that you would know more that I do... but, you say you are not a Mage."

I shook my head.

"...Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure." I sighed, "Back where I'm from, Magic is considered... less than believable."

"Less than!" Sevitus looked aghast. He looked at Daisy, as if expecting the damn horse to share his shock, before turning back to me. "You can levitate! I've seen you use invisible Wards to block arrows and telekinesis to carry wagons through the sky! I felt ghost hands that you summoned hold me tight!"

Would it be bad to admit I was surprised that he knew what Telekinesis was?

Best to keep that to myself.

Still, I had to smile at that idea of Fragile One being a ghost. It fit surprisingly well.

"All of those came to me naturally. More or less." I continued, chewing on the piece of crème pastry, "My home calls it powers. Superpowers. Very few people ever gain these superpowers, all of them very different from each other."

He looked contemplative, "And you were born able to levitate, carry things with your mind and summons ghosts?"

I shook my head, "Not born with it per se. More that I was given them at a point in my life where I was most vulnerable."

"Like a blessing? I've heard some Gods do that for followers and champions."

I shrugged, "Yeah, in a way it is like a blessing."

Sevitus was silent for a moment, studying me as a I swallowed another piece of pastry.

A twig cracked and a bird flew off in the distance. I glanced that way, eyes narrowing, wondering if I would see another dark mass soar within the clouds.

"Where do you hail from, Lady Antares?" When he spoke, he sounded a lot more like the soldier he was dressed as, immediately catching my attention, "Where do you come from where wagons are made of steel, castles dot the land, and Magic does not go by Magic?"

"That's a bit of a complicated question," I replied, deigning to ignore the 'Lady' part. "I think I told you that I'm not from here."

"Are you from this realm?"

"What's your definition of 'realm'?"

"Don't." His brown eyes stared straight into mine. "Don't dance around the subject like that. I've met too many people who try to parry the truth and none of them have ever had my best intentions in mind."

My eyes widened at the emotion in his voice. Sevitus saw my surprise and looked away, his expression morphing into one of regret.

"I'm... I'm sorry Sevitus."

"No." He shook his head, "I let myself be carried away in my excitement."

We were silent for a moment and the only sound was the fire crackling.

"I-"

Another snap. The woods were always full of branches falling and with the snow adding extra weight, that was bound to increase in number.

But I prided myself on my situational awareness, trained by Carol and honed in my experience as a Cape, and I trusted my alien friend when that awareness focused on something seemingly innocuous.

I floated up, discarding the blanket away from the fire and faced the woods opposite our side of the trail.

Sevitus looked up at me in shock, "Antares-"

"I know you're out there! Show yourselves!"

Now Sevitus scrambled to his feet, following my gaze, hand on his hilt.

Nothing. I was going to be real embarrassed about getting ready fight some dead foliage.

No, there was movement. One shadow rising from a bush directly in front of me, two to the right, and another two to my left.

The first one who broke through the forest was clearly the leader. He moved at a leisurely pace, confident, strutting across the trail as though he owned the place. He was wearing snow-crusted brown and black leathers, a long fur coat trailing behind him while also concealing his arms. One side of his head was shaved smooth, the other long and parted to the side. It was hard to say in the gloom, but I could imagine his hair being so greasy that it was flammable.

The others who followed suit matched him in style, though none wore cloaks, settling more for fur sewn into leather and what looked like pieces of chainmail armor.

The two on the right looked like twins, their tan skin marked in blue war-paint, leaving hand prints on opposite sides of their faces. They each carried metal axes, identical in design and decoration. In comparisonthe duo on the left couldn't have been further apart in how different they were.

A young woman with deep scars above her eye, the back of her hair tied into a pony-tail while the sides had been sheared messily down to the skin, a bow and arrow in each hand respectively.

The other was one of the largest men I'd seen without the aid of powers, not muscular like Tristan or Rachel were, but with his six-foot frame his rotund body was intimidating. He didn't hold a weapon like the others or conceal it like his leader was likely doing, simply rested one oversized hand on the staff that poked behind his back.

I heard the sound of movement behind me, knowing that Sevitus had drew his sword.

The group fanned out around us, the leader nearly ten feet away, catching us within their little net.

"Hark, strangers! What is a young Imperial Scout and an absolutely-"

He looked me over in a way that made it clear he wished that my armor was at my feet. It was a look that I had seen on Coalbelcher so many months ago and on Eric when we had first been acquainted.

I could already feel a migraine coming on.

"-ravishing young mage doing out here alone like yerselves? On a little escapade away from yer commanding officer? Looking to share some much needed warmth under one bed-roll in these trying times?"

The group chuckled and snickered, eyes darting between the two of us, fingers twitching.

This is a show. He's trying to rile them up

"Fly away." Sevitus tried to whisper, but his nervousness betrayed his volume, "Get help while I hold them off."

"If you fly off Mage." He chided, "We'll gut your little bed-roller like a slaughterfish."

"They'll try it anyways Antares!" Sevitus scowled, sword raised, but with the number of Bandits surrounding us he couldn't focus on any one opponent without leaving himself open.

He was so pale, eyes darting to each of the villains. It occurred to me that this might be the first time he had been in any kind of conflict.

Your father was right to worry about you.

One of the twins shouted, "Why don't he trust you Guff?!"

The leader - Guff - literally guffawed, "Oh, I don't blame'em. No one ever trusts the handsome stranger."

More laughs, more shifting movement. Edging closer to acting

His cold eyes looked over my shoulder, "Still, yer so pessimistic my legionnaire friend! If our striking young lass were to stick around for a bit and join our company at ole' Fort Nuegrad, we'll keep ya both alive. You might be have to stay in some cramped accommodations my dear soldier boy, but Antares will be given all the... proper attention that such a lady is worth."

Yeah, I didn't need to know what he meant by that.

"You always thinking with the wrong head, Guff." The female member of their group spoke up, echoing my thoughts in a weird way. The difference was that she was smiling, "You gotta give a lady a gift before she sheathes your sword. Make her appreciate what your offering her."

Guff nodded, as though he had been told some fundamental truth about the world. "You be right like usual Rave. I be too eager to jump bones. What would I do without you?"

She gave me an ugly smirk, "Probably break them in too early for it be a challenge."

Everything about her disgusted me, and the fact that she could smile while joking about these horrific threats cemented that disgust. Sidepiece had been a similar type of person, now that I thought of it, the kind of person who had learned about what had happened to me and then used it to mock me.

An entirely different breed of monster compared to Endbringers or Titans, who would break and kill you, because that was all they could do. It was what they made to do, when you got down to it.

No, Rave and Sidepiece were the kind of monsters who dragged you down into the muck because they couldn't or wouldn't raise themselves up to a higher standard, incapable of seeing people as people. I was disgusted, and despite myself, found myself feeling pity for someone who had fallen so far.

She must have seen something in my expression, because her smirk morphed into a scowl when I caught her eye.

Guff smiled at me, revealing several lost front teeth, "If you'd kindly disrobe, my beautiful little sprightling, I would happily gift you my personal fur coat. A touch more comfortable than those old leather straps. A gift from one gentleman to a fair lady."

There were rough barks of laughter from the group surrounding us, Rave excepted.

This was as much of an act as it was a threat. Horrendous and vile as it was, I could read how the flow of conversation was going exactly as he wanted it, Guff allowing most of his crew a chance to say a few words. Supporting any outbursts that served his goals of rattling us.

Posturing was a key part of the Cape game, and villains especially relied on it when even the slightest amount of weakness could mean having leadership or worse taken from you by a particularly ambitious lackey.

It was a sad life to live.

"You diseased mutts!," Sevitus growled out, face growing red. "I should-"

I raised a hand, stalling Sevitus's threat. The bandits, for their part, backed off quickly as weapons were held at the ready. Rave moved with eery grace in loading her bow, aiming it in direction.

Ah, I thought, Forgot that magic comes from the hands.

Guff's smile lessened, but unlike the others, he didn't care to move.

"Easy there waif," His voice was cold, making the smile feel all the more fake. "Don't make me have to cut off those delicate hands of yers because yer got a little heated in the wrong place."

No laughs from his troops this time. Vile as they were, they were on guard the moment it looked like I was going to take action.

I gave him a small smile of my own, crossing my arms over my chest. "Let's make a deal?"

His eye twitched, "Oh?"

"Antares!"

"It's alright Sevitus." I said, never taking my eyes off of Guff, "I've handled these types before."

"Well, by all means." Guff moved his hand in an 'as you will' gesture, "Let's hear out your deal, dearie. I'd love to hear how you handle my type. Money? Expensive scrolls? Maybe even a plead to our higher character?"

I shrugged, "It's nothing so grand."

I gave them all a brief once-over, "You, Guff, and all your bandit friends will surrender your weapons to us. Just toss them on the ground in front of us, nothing fancy. After that, I will let you all leave here unharmed and whatever dignity you have left intact. I won't even lift a finger. You run back to the fort with whatever excuses you want to use to explain your missing weapons. Dragons seem to be pretty topical."

My eyes were wide, "In any case, you leave us the fuck alone, and I don't destroy you."

Silence.

"Would you look at that." Guff said with a small amount of awe, "Our dainty little mage has a sense of humor to her. Whatcha think Bruen, should we take the deal? Tell our mates back down that trail that we bravely escaped a Dragon? Sounds mighty generous of our lass to give us that honor."

Bruen was apparently the large-man, now holding long sledgehammer and wolf-cowl. His voice was slow and dreary as he replied, "Nay. M'ybe happier to see the generous tits behind that armor, rather listen her flap her gums anymore."

There was a smattering of chuckles at that, and even Rave felt comfortable enough to start smirking again. She still kept her bow drawn and her eyes on me though.

Guff shook his head, shoulders going up and down as he laughed. "Oh, Bruen ya old wolf, yer still have a way with words."

He gave me that toothless grin, "Sorry waif. Seems that your deal has been struck down."

I shrugged again, "It's your funeral."

"Now, now." He chided, "Save your breath for later. As I love a squealer, you're going to need-"

Two things happened very quickly, one after the other.

The first was a simple finger flick, nothing more and nothing less. That finger belonged to a ten foot wide amalgamation of overlapping bodies, an energy outline of my old warped flesh, strong enough to throw trucks like footballs. So when the very tip of the finger belonging to that powerful and violent forcefield flicked the center of Guff's nose, the results were explosive.

I could imagine the scene in slow-motion, the ripple of flesh from the impact and the crack of bone as the force was transferred.

Guff staggered back like a feather-weight fighter who just swallowed a right hook from a juiced up heavy-weight champion, blood gushing down his nose in a water-fall of red that drenched the front of his fur coat. His eyes were wide and rolling, uncomprehending of what had just happened.

The second was that I blasted my aura at full power. Not long enough that Sevitus would be crippled by fear, but a short enough burst that served as an emotional upper-cut to stun the four lackeys.

Emotion powers were always a gamble when in use, each person reacting differently to varying degrees. Fear could be turned into aggression, resistance, and in one weird case, arousal.

But I felt that I had their measure; they had approached us with larger numbers, had tried mind-games instead of immediately charging in, and - Guff excepted - all were wary of me for being able to use "magic".

They were cowards, scavengers, and their reactions fell in line with that thought.

The twins backed away like they had touched a hot stove, crying out in shock, one of them tripping into the snow. Bruen hunkered down, long-hammer held out in front of him as if he expected he could ward off fear itself, his teeth bared and grit.

Rave's eyes were wide with shock, and she stumbled back as well, but she had enough forethought to let loose her arrow.

The Fragile One swiped it out of the air and dashed it to pieces.

Identify the biggest threats. The keystones to their group.

Guff, Rave, and Bruen.

Guff, still dealing with sudden destruction of his nose, had the whites of his eyes showing from the follow up aura blast. He was in no position to resist as I had one invisible arm take hold of his ankle and pull his feet out from under him. Snow muffled the fall and the subsequent drag created a small flurry as I pulled his ass through the snow, sling-shotting him in Rave's direction.

It was on the mark, a man easily over a hundred and fifty pounds hurled at her shins with surprising speed while she reached back for another arrow. The impact sent her literally spinning in the air for long seconds before landing face first into the snowy trail. Her legs stuck up in the air briefly before gravity reasserted herself, the limbs flopping useless onto the ground.

A dull groan of pain alleviated any fears of accidental killing.

Bruen was next-

Sevitus roared and it was my Mom telling me to calm myself, my Dad pleading with me to see reason, and telling myself that I shouldn't let paranoia rule my mind. It was weak, but no in the same way as Precipices was. Where his power could be ignored, it held an insidious nature as an undercurrent, and served the purpose of training the mind to act. This was blatant in it's goal and far easier to get a handle on.

Still, though the calm was cast aside by my natural resistance and training, the act itself was surprising enough to stall me for moment.

Whatever I felt, Bruen must have had it far worse, because he was staring at his hammer like he had never seen a weapon in his life. As I watched, he slowly began to 'sheathe' his hammer behind his back, the motions wary and uncomfortable to see. The other two mooks were frozen in place, both of them looking equally unsure as to what was happening.

Sevitus dashed in, sword swinging through the air-

No.

- And I was there before I could register what he had intended to do. One hand caught the blade, freezing in mid-air while I flew in front of him, flesh hands reaching through gaping mouths to grab his shoulders and arrest his momentum.

His eyes were wide as he stared at me in confusion, glancing between me and the blade held in the air.

"What are you doing?" He breathed out, his voice sounding much like Ulfric's had after he blasted the comet.

"You were going to kill him Sevitus!"

He blinked, "Of course I was Antares. He's a bandit! They are bandits! They've killed who knows how many travelers down this path and they threatened to do...."

He swallowed and looked just like the boy I thought of him as, "....They threatened you."

This sweet kid. How did you end up a soldier?

I nodded, "I understand Sevitus and really, thank you. I'm happy to know you have my back. But we don't need to kill them now. Whatever you did, stopped them cold."

I released my grip on his sword and floated back a bit, letting him have his space.

Sevitus looked at his sword and then at the surrounding bandits.

He shook his head, "The Emperor's voice won't last long Antares. Maybe a minute left before it wears off at most, since I caught them off-guard. Then there will be bloodshed."

"Let me handle that okay?"

He frowned.

I met his eyes and asked again, "Okay?"

He bit his lip, but nodded. His sword slid into his sheath and I felt myself relax.

Now how the hell am I going to handle this?

Five bandits, two taken out of commission completely, two more who would probably bolt the moment the power wore off, and a third who might do anything if desperate.

They were garbage, trash, the worst of the worst, but I couldn't bring myself to kill these people anymore than I could bring myself to remove Deathchester from the game-board.

What a fucking pain in the ass.

A memory stirred in my mind, of a Fallen Biker I had fought in woods near Rain's old home, and how I resolved that confrontation.

I smiled.

 

[Ridtom]

Interlude: The Tower

⊙​

The Mer in Black fled across the tundra and the Archer's Companions followed.

The Archer's knees bulled through the snow dust like hearty mammoths, powerful joints and muscles honed by years of tracking game along the Throat of the World. A marvel of his home, he had once claimed to his lover to have scaled half of the seven thousand steps chasing after a buck twice as large as any recorded.

Though if he were more modest (or, as his lover would say, honest), he would have admitted to merely covering a seventh of those daunting steps to chase down an average sized buck that vexed him with tenacity despite the arrow embedded in its neck.

Thoughts of home brought on a somber feeling in his gut, and he huffed out a breath in an attempt to remove this distracting emotion from his soul, pumping his arms to and fro faster to increase his pace and distance himself from the memory.

"This one believes his pale friend grows irksome, yes?"

The Archer turned his head to the voice on his right, his iron helmet preventing him from getting away with just a glance.

The Khajit's brown maw poked out of his tan hood, bits of snow catching onto his fur, only for a long tongue to slip out and catch them for a quick clean. The eyes beneath the hood were hidden for now, but he knew they'd be a startling emerald green, an intelligence behind them that could make any of the Archer's old tutors back in Whiterun look a fool.

"Your pale friend is fine," said the irked Archer. "Just not in the mood for questions."

"Jakir knows that mood very well, hmm. Always when it is about the warm sands of home, yes? When this one gets to thinking of the times his father would bathe with Jakir in the sun, the irksome fleas will find their nest in his fur."

The Archer said nothing, keeping his attention on the snowy path up the mountain in front of him.

There was quiet, neither willing to break the silence they had acknowledged as wanting but went unspoken.

The Archer did not think Jakir was truly experiencing the same feeling in regards to thoughts of home, but did not begrudge the peculiar beast. How could he? He had once thought of home in a similar way after all, a place of respite and peace after a week or month-long quest to hunt down a bandit or a pack of mangy wolves. The Archer would come back to Whiterun, coins in pocket and a saddle-bag with gifts for his lover.

He could still remember how, after a delicious bottle of mead gave it's life for the evening, he had convinced her to sleep with him outside the city walls. They had cozied up together in a tent, a leather sleeping roll shared between the two as they star-gazed and then made love as the stars gazed at them.

Stupid in retrospect. They could have died a myriad of ways, but wasn't that the folly of youth? Living stupidly so that you can look back with comfort, knowing you lived?

Perhaps so. Yet when he looked back to those moments, seeing her crouched above him and the stars framing her, he didn't know what to feel. Not after what she had told him.

"Ahead, pale friend. Jakir's eyes see our future coin."

The Archer glanced up sharply, trained marksman eyes coving the way forward for a landmark. As skilled as he was, it took him long seconds before he could see the outline in the distance, deep morning fog obscuring any obvious details.

Still, the Khajit was right. They had found their coin.

Snow Point Beacon.

The Archer smiled, chapped lips splitting, "Good eye Jakir. You should have taken up archery instead."

"This one feels most at home with his hands free, yes."

The Khajit sniffed the air, "This one smells rot in the air."

The Archer nodded, "Matches the reports we'd gotten from the Whitewatch Tower and the Vigilants. Damned wood-elf forcing the dead to fight for himself while he reaps the rewards."

He scanned the way forward, noting the environment.

"There," he pointed, "I'll move forward to the outcropping of rocks. Bring the others in with your magic, I'll keep watch here. If he sends any of his damned slaves down the slope, I'll be able to at least warn you all."

"Jakir will take your word then, pale friend. Think of warm sands while you wait, yes?"

The Khajit bared it's fangs in what was an attempt at a grin as a faint purple hue shimmered briefly engulfed him. In a moment, the beast was gone, invisible to the naked eye with it's quiet casting.

If he had wanted to look for them, the Archer was sure he would be able find ways to detect the transparent creature. Footprints left in the snow or perhaps the way his outline stood out slightly as it made it's way through the fog. But that was only circumstantial, dependent on him knowing that there was an unseen foe in the first place.

The Archer was confident that the Khajit would make it down to his companions unscathed.

Now all alone, he moved forward, stalking through the snowy slope towards the bundle of rocks. Although he lacked the spells and enchantments that the Khajit had to muffle his approach, he made up for it with experience in hunting far more alive and wary prey for a living.

His powerful knees were no longer merely thrusting through the snow; now the Archer was careful to calculate the best footing needed for the least amount of noise, paying close attention to finding areas where the snow was not as deep so as to hasten his trek.

He had only just reached the outcropping when he saw a body in the fog, and quickly darted to the far edge of the rocks to avoid detection.

Silence.

The Archer glanced up and over the rocks, careful to not even breath too hard. The body still stood there, standing listlessly on it's lonesome, facing the slope from which the Archer and Khajit had came.

The corpse guard glowed with ethereal energy, and where the light glowed the most was where a gaping hole had been blown through it's chest. The Archer did not know whether it had lost the armor before or after it's death, but the corpse guard stood there now with it's upper body bare, uncaring for the cold.

It had once been an Imperial woman.

Sloppy.

Or perhaps arrogant was the right word. The Mer in Black had raided several watchtowers and villages successfully after all.

The Archer had never encountered undead before, but he had traded stories at many a tavern, and heard that some necromancers felt secure in allowing the undead to serve as their watchdogs. Some adventurers had warned him that a talented necromancer could bound the will and mental fortitude of their victims as though they still lived, but this one didn't seem to be the type.

It's eye's glowed with unnatural life, yes, but that life was also dim and unaware of it's environment. The Archer was reasonably confident that a living being, even a child, could maybe have spotted his approach up the slope. Whatever sense of broader awareness or higher thinking had been lost in this damned soul's death, remained out of reach of it's new life.

The Archer looked beyond the guard and could see brief flashes of movement. More undead most likely, ordered to stay or prowl along a set route, as anything more would be beyond them. He counted what he could, edging between ten and eleven, but the fog was shifting and covering more near the Tower.

If there were any human protections, then infiltrating would be far harder, but the Archer didn't feel as that would be a concern. He had been tracking the Mer for over a month now, listened to reports from surviving villagers and guards, and not once had any collaborators of the mortal variety been mentioned or seen.

The Mer had a taste for the theatrics it seemed, loudly announcing his presence and demands once he caught his victims unawares.

Sloppy? Or arrogance born of success?

Not enough of either for him to stay in one place, considering how quickly he had fled once word got around of Adventurers on his tail.

The corpse guard groaned and the Archer took notice, hunting eyes taking in the lone body. She had been an Imperial in her time among the living, hair cropped short much like a boy's, face and neck covered in sloppy hand-print tattoos. He wasn't sure what she might have served as back in her bandit days; her arms weren't built enough for archery or most handed weaponry, but he supposed she might have favored knives or even magic as a support.

Beyond her race, she looked nothing like his lover back home, but he still felt that pang in his gut he had been desperately trying to remove. His lover would never stoop so low as to accept the bandit life-style, would rather beg Talos to strike her down before that ever came to fruition. He was confident that, alone as she was without him, she could make a life for herself that she might be happy with.

But she wasn't truly alone, not anymore.

It had been three months since she broke the news to him and a month since he left on this adventure. He had told himself that the time was right, that there would be plenty of women in plenty of Holds whom he could find comfort in, and that some time with his companions would stoke the fires of freedom that drove all Nords of Skyrim.

It didn't matter that every day saw something that would remind him of how she would admire his bow-work, and every night had him restless from thinking about the look she gave him as he left Whiterun.

He would forget about her soon enough. Surely.

⊙​

Despite putting himself on full alert, the Archer was still caught off guard by the touch on his shoulder.

His arm moved in a blur to reach for his bow-

The spell faded and a grinning Khajit was where empty air once stood, companions in tow.

The Archer swallowed his surprise and rising anger as best he could, "You're lucky. You might have ended up in whatever plain of Oblivion you worship if I was a second faster."

"This one believes the night is still young, no?"

The Orc behind him chuckled, and it was deep enough that he was worried it might alert even the unalert corpse.

The Breton placed a hand on her armored shoulder, "Easy there Shurm. No need to wake up the Necromancer yet."

"Of course." The Orc smiled, large jutting tusks growing more pronounced, "The call for battle always puts me in a good mood."

Excited as she was, she still took the moment to place her green hand on his tan one. The Breton smiled.

The Archer didn't pretend to understand it. The Breton and Orc had joined half-way into this trip, also hunting the Mer, given the quest by a Noble house after their eldest was killed in a raid. To call them an odd pair was an insult to odd pairs; The Breton had been a wandering merchant before growing tired of the business and investing all he had into gear and weapons. According to the Orc, he had nearly died to a roaming pack of Mudcrabs until she happened along and saved him. From there a... something formed between the two of them that he felt less than comfortable to assume.

In any case, they worked well enough together and decently as additions to the party. The Archer was a natural stealth fighter by nature, but he could appreciate the strength and finality of a mace swung hard enough to shatter stone. The Breton was slightly average in terms of fighting prowess, but he was silver tongued when it came to getting locals and strangers to open up with clues.

The Breton took a peek over the rock shelter. He grimaced at the sight of the guard, "How many more like her?"

"Undead? Easily ten men strong."

The Orc nodded, "Guess that explains why the fort was empty. But why move from an easily defensible stronghold to a ramshackle tower?"

The Breton shook his head, "Not sure about the rest of you, but walking up a mountain to get to said tower has its benefits for him I think."

"Jakir believes his rotten enemy has feet on the ground but head in the clouds."

"It doesn't matter why." The Archer interrupted, "Only that I doubt he has more than ten on him. The tower doesn't have enough room to hold that much more, and he seems to have primarily set them up as early warning systems."

"You think he's overconfident?" The Orc asked.

"I do."

The Khajit hummed, "This one thinks his magic is formidable. Jakir wonders if we are not the overconfident ones, no?"

The party was silent at that.

"It doesn't matter." He repeated. "We aren't going to allow him a chance to use his magic in the first place. We'll take out his sentries as quietly as possible and launch an arrow into the back of his head. Let his soul go to whatever prince in Oblivion favors him."

There were nods. No one was going to back down after they had gotten so close to their prize.

The Archer took hold of his hunting bow, feeling the polish of wood that he crafted himself while his lover watched by the Hearth. He remembered the face of his father as the old man taught his eldest how to feel the resistance and hunger in the string of the bow, each nocked arrow seeking out to drink blood from his enemies.

He rose from behind the rock outcropping and his hands were a blur; arrow pulled, knocked, and tensions run through his thick biceps. His eyes felt hyper-focused and the world slowed down around him. It didn't matter that the Iron Helmet normally limited his vision; he was aiming from his Hunters heart, not his eyes.

One.

The arrow was released, thirsting for death. Not even a moment of surprise, if the undead was capable of it, as iron pierced the soft flesh of eye and then brain. Whatever foul magic kept the corpse in this twisted unlife, it couldn't handle the destruction of the body's organ.

Ash was all that remained of the Imperial woman.

Blurred hands were already moving on.

Two, Three, Four...

Ash pile to ash pile. Dust to dust. The strum of his Bow's twine didn't quite make a song, but he imagined it gave a very satisfied hum.

Five, Six, Seven...

The Archer was unaware of his feet moving him forward silently, but he knew wasn't still. It was a natural progression in this state of awareness, where stillness meant death for predator and prey.

Eight, Nine, Ten...

There was an eleventh, but his arrows didn't reach him. The mechanical kur-chank of a crossbow bolt did, however, and the final corpse on the hill dissipated into ash. The Breton reloaded, the act longer than loading a normal bow, but the Archer couldn't deny that it was useful for support and power. He had balked at the purchase before, but the Breton appeared quite adept with it's use.

He allowed them all a moment to shift through the ash, grabbing anything they had an interest in, which wasn't worth much all told. Some Septims, a few extra arrows, one lock-pick. Only the Khajit gained a boon of any kind, collecting the ash with great pleasure and excitement.

The Archer felt that uncomfortable feeling once more, same as whenever he observed the Breton and Orc together. Keeping piles of human ashes was also something he could not nor want to understand.

"Let's move on." He said, wiping his arrowhead free of human dust, "To the Tower."

⊙​

The arrow whistled through the air and just as easily through the wind-pipe of the bandit corpse at the tower's entrance. Ash collapsed in it's stead as the companions moved in.

"He's taking all the fun," the orc grumbled. She turned to the Breton, "Jeram, tell him to stop taking all the fun."

"Patience dear," he said casually, "Maybe he'll let you bash open the mage's skull."

The Orc's smile lit up her face, and the Archer could almost see a glimmer of what the Breton might have always known.

He held up a hand instead and the group grew quiet, joking nature subdued. The Tower was only three stories tall and as much of a blessing the fog had been to dampen sight and sound, it would still travel quickly if they spoke too loudly.

They weren't true companions, definitely not the kind who could perform complex operations using only hand signals, but they had been through enough skirmishes to understand the basics of what they wanted to get across.

They followed his lead, into the first floor, where barren remains of books and porridge sat on a wooden table. There was a murmur in the air, not a whisper so much as something shouting from so far away that it was difficult to make out.

They made their way up the stairs, the Archer leading with the Khajit right behind, the Orc and Breton bringing up the rear.

A sound pierced the quiet. Conversation.

"-Towers are failing, the world is moving on without us, my master. The Thalmor's insidious grasp tightens on creation, I've seen it in your visions! Please, give me guidance in this dire time."

A rumble of chimes echoed through the air and everyone paused, feeling instincts ingrained since the creation of their mortal ancestors raise warning beacons in their mind's eye. One did not need a touch of magic to understand the danger. This was primal, as natural a sensation as one might feel the kiss of fire in the air against skin, and that kiss was one that all remembered since their ancestors made claim to the land.

An overbearing tutor mocking a failing student. A father disappointed in their child's life choices. Fellow children pitying you for being born less talented than the rest. One's creator disgusted by the being molded in their image.

Eventually, the rumbling subsided, that feeling of inadequacy and lack of wisdom growing dimmer as time went on.

It never completely disappeared, but that wasn't surprising. It came from within them after all.

The Archer stepped forward and his bizarre companions followed, no voice given to retreat or smoke out the mad mage. Something, some sort of event in the World, had been triggered and all knew that they were within it's grasp now. There were only two ways through it now.

Victory or Death.

The companions eased their way to the top of the tower, feeling as though hours where passing between every step. Which was blatantly impossible; the Tower was only just a few stones above three-stories, yet it felt... longer. The Archer felt as though every time his powerful legs took a step, there was a large chance that the stairs would no longer be there. Or perhaps they would, only to shatter beneath him like cheap glass.

How long would the fall be to the floor below? Seconds, surely. Yet, he felt that it could be minutes, hours, years.... how many? Five thousand? Ten? Long enough that he might surely go mad for the desire to end his life, the knowledge that a quick death from a broken neck would have been preferable to an iota of this cosmic torment inflicted on his psyche.

The Greybeards were wrong, he thought with a detached sort of panic. These are the seven thousand steps and you can never walk them back.

Madness. Magic. One or the other, the Mer must have done this.

He gestured to Jakir, a firm chopping motion from head to the stairs. The Archer didn't bother looking to see if the Khajit adventurer understood what he meant, simply continuing his trek up the stairs, each tap of boot on stone sounding as false as his story about the giant buck.

"Corrupted? By whom? Or what? Your power is as infinite as your knowledge, you must have the answers I seek!"

There was second (or eternity) where the Archer feared for another round of those maddening chimes, bouncing off the walls of these Divine abandoned tomb of a tower, slamming conscious thought against sanity in his mind like a pebble dragged through a torrent of river water.

The eternal second passed with no chimes. What had been done, had been and now was.

Jakir whispered in a tongue the Archer didn't understand and blue-green light appeared in his paws, coalescing into their tell-tale orbs. The Archer noticed how their shadows distorted grotesquely from the light, stretching down and into an abyss that had once been the second floor.

When did we pass the second floor?

And then the blue-green energy engulfed the party, fantastical magic seeping into the air and embracing their bodies. The Archer could feel it's power seeping into his mind, feel the fear not dissipate, but rather be muffled like one might cover a cough with a handkerchief.

Harmony.

The spell was thankfully not strong to render them docile to danger, but he could sense how the distorted Tower had lost the bite from it's fangs. He heard a few sighs of relief from behind him, and felt unconcerned with the sound potentially alerting their prey.

The Archer moved on and the companions followed.

He lifted a leg-

Only to put it back down. They were there, at the top of a tower that shouldn't be, and had that spell not calmed their nerves the jarring change in scenarios might have very well knocked them from their perch.

"I-I don't understand."

The Archer moved into the... the... the....

He closed his eyes, focused on that slowly diminishing feeling of harmony, and opened his eyes again.

Space was wrong. To describe it accurately would require words he had no idea existed, if they ever truly could. The closest that came to mind wasn't a word, but rather a memory. A diamond he had spied in a merchant's shop, held up near a window so that the light would land it in just the right way to show all the refractions in it's form.

Refractions came close, but still not quite, because he would still see himself in those jumbled mirrors within the diamond. Here, these refractions were collages of thing that weren't. He could see his father near the Throat of the World as it stretched out along a wall that could reach past the clouds, only for a blink to show a band of Orcs sitting around a campfire on a wall only slightly taller than himself. To his left he could see a mixed band of Khajit and Imperials having a discourse on a road, blended viciously with an old man counting coin behind a counter.

And in-between each of these refractions of make-believe, he could see green tendrils snaking through the images, acting as horrific barriers that pulsed with bubbling tar. Horror began to grow as soulless eyes would occasionally rise from these pits of tar and tentacles, bobbing to and fro before sinking back beneath their pitch black depths. Or perhaps they were pulled under, as whatever rested beneath took a glance at that world above.

Even the floor was wrong, wood smeared over a hundred feat as though a water droplet had run through a painting canvas.

Madness, he thought and knew it to be true.

He looked back to his companions. The Khajit was looking on in awe or horror, impossible to say, emerald eyes trying to take in every image. The Breton was aggressively rubbing his eyes, as though he could banish this mistake like a dream. Only the Orc looked on, her eyes razor focused on thing in particular.

The Archer turned and saw what had become of the Mer in Black.

He stood among refractions within refractions and the focus of every image was of him. One of him with his eyes gone, replaced by black voids seeping with tar. A second where his entire upper body was only eyes and tentacles, riving in endless pain as green light glowed deep within their cores. Another that could have been him in a more ceremonial gown, arms crossed behind his back and wearing a golden mask invoking a squid on his face, implacable despite the horrors occurring all around him.

The Mer in Black stood with his corpse guard and spoke to these refractions of himself- no. Not himself.

To the black mass of tar in-between the cracks of images. How could the Archer know this? He didn't. Or rather, he did not know he knew this. Knowledge was flowing in and out of his mind like one breathes air and exhales carbon dioxide, though he too did not know what that was or how he came to think of it.

What he knew then and knew now was that the madness had to stop, or their minds would be lost to the flow of information.

He moved faster and more frantically than he had ever down before in his life, the threat of death not even close to the only reason his body was thrumming, the arrow sliding back as smooth as silk.

The chime returned, only this time it was an echo of the force from before.

The Mer in Black turned, eyes wide, and every fractal turned with him to face the companions. The masked iteration simply cocked it's head, as though finding this whole situation to be curious at the worst.

The Archer let loose-

And a portal to Oblivion opened before the arc of the projectile, shredding it from reality. The Frost Atronach stumbled forth into this plain of existence, supported by a swirling storm of frost and chill.

All around them, the refractions duplicated the purple tint of Oblivion and gave way to a cacophony of red-black cracks arching through the sky of distant lands and ancient ruins, crystals spearing forth from the void and into forgotten dungeons. He could see glimpses of horrific Falmer torn to shreds, Dwemer constructs absorbed into the landscape, and Dremora poured out of the tears in reality as mutants.

Madness. Madness all around them.

The Orc strode forth, powerful lungs bellowing as she met the Frost Atronach's plundering pace and the Breton followed through. She lashed out with three blows in as many seconds, mace colliding with solid ice in a crash that sent the Archer's ear's ringing. Strikes capable of turning stone to rubble bounced off the apparitions body, sending showers of ice and frost through the air, yet he could tell how the damage was only surface deep.

They were able to budge the creature slightly, but it's mass was simply too much in comparison, and for every second the Orc stood within it's aura of ice, the slower she became. The Breton peppered the monster with shots, aiming for the cracks the Orc made, but for as powerful as the projectiles were, there was no vital organs that could be nicked to slow it's advance.

The Frost Atronach swiped and caught the mace in it's strike, a blow that would be normally devastating now becoming destructive as it's trunk arms smashed into her chest alongside her own weapon.

The Orc was sent slamming into the wood, the entire front of her body encased in ice now. She struggled to get up as the Atronarch lumbered over to her prone form.

The Mer struck out his hands and the Khajit leapt forward, animal prowess allowing him to move with a grace that the Archer could never hope to replicate. Arcs of lightning flew from the Mer's palms, only to crash into a shimmering Ward of magic, branches of electricity flying off to strike out at the nearby refractions. Where they hit, they continued on, traveling through a space that couldn't be perceived and warping the images within.

Already, the Archer could see the Ward begin to dissipate under the continued onslaught.

He pulled another arrow from his pack-

And he fell, his knee buckling beneath him as pain lanced up his body and spine.

Wide eyes looked down.

An arrow to the knee, bone torn loose of the skin, the shaft caught in the half-way point of ligaments.

The corpse.

It had hidden itself behind a pillar, an act of intelligence that shocked the Archer to his core. He had never thought that the Mer could perform such a thing.

He cold see it reaching back for an arrow, glowing eyes focused on the Archer.

Behind the corpse, he could see a cascade of images in between the red and black chaos, and he felt a reversed sense of nostalgia.

Images of his lover manning a stall in Whiterun, frowning as an elderly man spoke dramatically to her. She was older herself, but her features were just as strong as they were before. Another showing a young girl watching a boy run to a man in armor and he knew instinctively that it was the boy's father. A final image, showing the Archer carrying the young girl on his shoulders, his lover strolling beside him while walking through Whiterun in the sun.

It was the face of a happy father that took hold of his mind, and he pulled forth two arrows from his quiver.

The Frost Atronach was pummeling the Orc into the ground now and the Breton was screaming as he bashed it with his crossbow, uncaring of how ice was beginning to encase his body.

The Khajit was near death, his Ward invisible under the constant onslaught of lightning.

The Archer remembered the face of the father in those refractions, hands blurring with a magic of their own and he knocked back both arrows.

The corpse fired and the Archer returned his own.

Iron heads sparked and reverberated across this expanse of condensed time and space.

A twist of the hips and he launched his second arrow forth

The lightning cut off.

The Atronach vanished and the Archer could hear only heavy gasps and sobs on that end.

The Khajit… The Khajit was dead, his corpse smoking.

The Archer sat down heavily as the fog began to encroach on the open floor. The refractions and intimate knowledge were gone, and what was left were three corpses and two injured men. He took off his helmet as the sobbing continued to grow in volume and power, feeling a chill as the sweat in his hair mingled with the cold air and the aches and pains made themselves known now that the fight was done.

His knee was oddly quiet, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before it lashed out again.

He layed down his bow. The adventure was over.

The Archer died there, but left no corpse.

 

[Ridtom]

Candlelight 2.6

⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙​

One thing they don't tell you about caping: You're going to have to eventually get creative with restraining criminals.

Certain capes could cheat with their powers, like my cousins and aunt. Sarah, Crystal, and Eric could create forcefields to hem in and pin criminals against other forcefields or sturdy walls, with their lasers acting as the 'Ouch, fuck' stick to the forcefield's 'Let's not do that' carrot if they were trying to find some way to squeeze through. Benefits of the shaker classification, a chaotic battlefield could be enforced with order with seemingly random but durable light-fields.

For the capes without those benefits, we had to do things the old fashioned way, which meant a lot of utility belts and hidden pockets to cart around during a patrol or fight. My mom, dad, Neil, and myself fell into that category. The men preferred the utility belts, harking back to the Golden Age of heroics where everyone had a utility belt and extravagantly long cape regardless of whether it fit their themes, costume, or power set. Mom and I worked more with the pockets sewn into skirts and body-suits, so that zip-ties and small cuffs could be carried around without it looking too gaudy or too similar to some the X-rated heroes of the mid-nineties.

Eventually though, you were going to run out of zip-ties, the cuffs would be snapped by a Brute, or there where simply too many people to hold conventionally. From there, it was a game of playing it smart and playing it quick unless you wanted the bad guys to realize that you were in a tight spot.

My mom would have to decide between the dramatic - creating a giant light-scythe to bar the exit - or the personable, where she would hold light-blades to the throats of criminals and bluff them into submission with the heat emanating from the weapons. Uncle Neil could use his electromagnetism to help set up metal barricades and use his seven foot stature to emphasize how maybe trying to get past him was a bad idea. My dad had the short end of the stick when it came to that aspect of caping, at best using his grenades to get groups to scatter or lie and tell them they would only explode if they moved. By the time they dissipated into light bubbles, one other family member would have moved in to secure the targets.

For me, I had a few more options available. The aura had been one of the strongest factors of course, allowing me to emphasize how resisting wasn't the best plan to take, or to let me briefly stun them while I went to work. Flight had been another tool for corralling those who tried to slip past me and often finding that I was already at the exit, floating there patiently for them. Strength had allowed me to live out the most cliché of superhero movie tropes; wrapping rebar around them, trapping them in dumpsters by squeezing the lid shut, and one particularly memorable case involved me holding a car aloft while they tried to gun the engine.

That last one had made the front page of the Brockton Bay Inquirer and various recreations at Meet 'n' Greets and charity events.

In my time with Breakthrough I learned a new, simple but effective, means of keeping dirtbags roosted in one spot.

"You're mad!"

"Very." I agreed, ramming the sword through to the hilt. I tugged on the handle with a flesh hand, jostling it to test it's security while the bandit above me panted with fear.

Satisfied with the work, I lowered the bandit till his feet were firmly planted on the handle.

"Hug the tree."

"Piss on you and yer family's name!"

I met Bruen's eyes and ramped up the aura, a wavelength that couldn't be measured by anything short of Tinker Tech and a primordial part of the brain.

"Hug. The. Tree." I ordered, each word punctuated by a brief flare of aura and me invading his personal space, unblinking.

The bandit swallowed and looked away, reluctant, but his arms still moved to wrap around the bark. Satisfied, I released him from my forcefield's grasp, keeping the hands ready in case the handle failed on us.

It held.

"Piss!" He said, voice muffled against the wood.

I ignored him, floating back to observe my handy-work. The Twins were tied to the tree using spare rope from my carriage operation, arms bound tight against the other, neither one willing to look my way. I used Bruen's warhammer to handle Guff and Rave, spearing the weapon through the tree and tying them on opposite ends by their hands. Guff was quiet, still a little loopy from the broken nose, aura blast, and being tossed through the snow at high speeds.

Rave was the only one who was willing to meet my eyes now that I had cowed Bruen, but there was none of her earlier arrogance. Her face was red from where it had been buried in the snow, but the cold hadn't done much to handle the swell of her busted lip or the bruise on her forehead from where she landed. I could only describe her expression as searching, like I was a puzzle that had to be solved or a mystery to be unraveled.

I gave her a look as I held up the weapons around me, mostly knives, but the short sword Guff hid in in his cloak and her bow were among them.

I held the knife between the two of us.

"Fort Nuegrad. How many of your men are there?"

She pursed her lips together, face beginning to form a glare.

But not before the crunch of metal rang in the air as the knife was folded in on itself gently by an invisible hand. A brief burst of aura served to reinforce that shock before the crumpled up knife was dropped.

Another knife was brought between us.

"Are you going to make me ask again?"

Rave swallowed, audibly gulping. Still, she answered, "Thirty men strong. We got a pack of wolves too."

"Anyone there that can use magic? Traps?"

"I-"

"Rave!" Bruen's dreary voice was horrible at conveying anger, but it was enough to shut her up, "Shut your trap you Hagraven's ass! Yer keep talking and she aint gonna have no reason to keep us alive! She'll-"

This time it was my turn to interrupt, knives and swords crumpling and cracking all around me. The wood of the bow began to creak-

"Not the bow!"

I paused, fingers that poked holes in steel pressing slightly against fragile wood.

"Why?"

Rave looked at me with wide eyes, "It's my Da's! It's all I got from him before he croaked!"

I brought the bow around and in front of me. It didn't look like anything special to me. No special carvings or insignia that might have pointed to it being some special family heirloom.

Just a bow.

"Why should I believe you?" I asked, keeping my voice level. "It looks like any other bow I've seen, it could be anybody's. You guys kill and steal, and probably more if what you're friend was implying was true-"

"It aint!" She shook her head desperately, "Guff was playing all big and nasty and it was all a lie! We both women-folk here, I wouldn't have let 'em do anything to yer womanhood! Just some bark so you give up without a fight."

I felt that sadness and pity in my gut from earlier slowly start to boil.

"If it came down to it, if I asked your friends if you were lying, and told them that I would kill them if they were lying... would they back you up right now?"

Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Closed.

Now her eyes were wide, wider than Bruen's had been when I had been dosing him with fear, and her struggle to keep eye contact was apparent.

Yeah. I thought so.

"It doesn't matter," I said, even though it did. "He made the threat and you backed him up. You all backed him up. The same would apply if you had pointed an arrow in my face, because as far as I'm concerned, you intended on fucking with me."

She looked down, shoulders sagging.

I hated it. Hated these people, what they represented, and the fact that I was threatening them with murder to get them to submit just like they tried with us.

It brought mind to the images I and many others had seen only hours earlier, how people could perceive my actions as monstrous even when compared to someone as detestable as Victor.

And as much as I could argue that the context was different, that the justifications couldn't be properly compared, I still couldn't completely convince myself.

"Are there any traps or magic users in your fort?"

"...Two witches." She was quiet, subdued as she answered, "No traps. We didn't think we needed them."

I nodded, not feeling any better with the admission or her giving up.

"What can they do? Strengths and weaknesses?"

She blinked, "I don't know. They fling fireballs mostly. I only ever see them do that when Skeevers pop up. Probably other magical mammoth-shit they don't show off."

I frowned at her.

Rave withered under my gaze, "It's all I know. I never cared about foolish witches."

I had to resist the urge to sigh.

At least it's something.

"We'll be back for you in a few hours hopefully. After that, we'll take you to an Imperial camp past Helgen, and they'll decide what to do with you."

Bruen's muffled voice from the side of the tree, "You'd have us wait for yer to take us to our execution?"

I shrugged, even though he couldn't see it, "You could always try climbing down once I leave. I don't really care what you want and none of you have my sympathy right now. The only reason I'm going through all this trouble is because I have bigger things to worry about."

"Yer regret this." He threatened while hugging a tree, "Bruen never forgets a wronging."

Oh good. We have that in common.

I was silent as I moved, placing the bow along a branch on a different tree, directly opposite of Rave's view.

I didn't look back as I descended.

I flew down the remaining thirty feet, phantom limbs smashing the majority of the branches on the way. Making it so that even if they could free themselves, they might not want to when the only way down was a potentially crippling drop.

I floated towards where Sevitus sat atop Daisy, a concerned look on his face.

I ran a gentle hand along her snout, feeling a bit of warmth from the touch. Horses and their connection to my aunt wasn't the smoothest of memories of me, but at least it was a connection of some sort. It didn't help that pit of burning anger all that much, but that would fade in time, like usual.

"Did they give you trouble?"

I shook my head, "Just had to scare them a bit. They should stay put until we come back and I'll help you carry them over to the camp. You know anything about Fort Nuegrad?"

Sevitus shook his head, "Only that it was abandoned some time during the war, reclaimed after, and then abandoned again. Not surprised that it's been taken by bandits, but they were never a threat our legion had to worry about."

"They've got some c- magic users with them. Witches who fling fireballs if that means anything."

He shrugged, "We'll handle them like the rest."

So cavalier about facing unknown abilities.

He glanced up to the bandits, "We should have killed them Antares. Bandits are a scourge on Skyrim and many of them don't deserve to draw another breath. Just as likely that'll be their fate at the camp."

I sighed, feeling that simmering anger recede back into sadness a bit more, "I think that no matter what I'd do, I'd be unhappy with the outcome. Maybe it would have even been the right thing to do. But I didn't want to have six more people's lives on my conscience, not when I have to live with the all the other's I've taken and failed."

"Every soldier has to take lives eventually."

"I was never a soldier," I replied. "Never will be. Never want to be."

A glance back showed how hurt he was by that last statement, practically crestfallen.

The relationship between Capes and military service had been a topic since the beginning, ranging from Air-Force Pilots attempting to corner Scion for containment, to several court cases involving the legality of Capes of former military units getting severance packages and benefits like vets. Approaching it from the research and scholarship angle, Capes simply weren't people who served well in the old fashioned structure of yesteryears military, with hundreds of reports detailing the monumental issues that each independent cape brought to a unit using the old methods.

The PRT and Protectorate had been built under a more flexible regime, one that allowed capes and their neuroses some breathing room without making them feel trapped or overly committed. Costumes defied uniformity, teams were shuffled around on a controlled basis based on merit and deeds, and almost every day was part shore leave when a patrol was over. If you wanted it, you could start a family and live your short life with them as you worked as a hero, or even start something with another hero without any real repercussions so long as it was clean.

Were there exceptions to the rule? Absolutely.

The CUI, Russia, and Japan were all varying degrees of success and failures. The CUI used mind-control of the powered and normal variety to keep their main-force docile, depriving them of their humanity as best they could to enforce diehard loyalty. Russia had used isolationist tactics to induce distrust and paranoia into their capes, with normal soldiers often serving as spies for commanders waiting for the order to eliminate the problem elements. Japan had tried a more novel approach with the Sentai Elite, something that I could only describe as two-faced; colorful and varied costumes that were uniform in design, teams that supposedly preached positive individualism while also being subjected to societal pressure, and a squeaky-clean roster of teammates that would eventually be revealed to have been funded by the largest of the Yakuza.

Two out of three of those countries had also been suffering from in-fighting and outright revolt before the world ended for the first time. The third had been devastated before it's cape team could really show the fruits of their labor, for all the good and bad that might have led to their cape society as a whole.

Teacher... Teacher was the worst of culmination of every aspect of military life for capes ramped up to eleven. Chastity had been right when she pointed out that he lacked any humanity, and how much of that was himself or his Agent was also dependent on whether he willingly gave himself up to it's control.

All that being said, I could understand the appeal of a more militarized cape team that drew in outspoken individuals like Crystal to the PRTCJ. There was a comfort in following a chain of command, where choices are made for you instead of agonizing over every decision, and sometimes allowing for a stronger and faster response. The Wardens were similar, in a fashion, but still keeping that more relaxed structure of the Protectorate while lacking most of it's normal human oversights.

Sevitus had no context for any of this, might not even understand it even if I had days to explain it. He was a boy and a soldier in a world that had hundreds of years of divergence, where dealing with powers was handled with a shrug. I had no comforting words to mend the hurt in his expression, not with such a wide gap in culture between us.

My team could. Ashley would have. Tattletale would as well, though probably from an annoying villainous angle.

I missed them. I was scared for them.

I was scared of what I might find when I returned.

"Let's go." I said, floating forward.

It took a moment, but eventually I could hear the clopping of Daisy's hooves behind me.

⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙​

I wasn't usually one for quiet travel when I was with others. Sometimes I wasn't in the mood for conversation, be it exhaustion or simply bad timing, but for the most part I liked to make idle chatter when I was with people I was comfortable around.

This didn't qualify for comfortable unfortunately.

I liked Sevitus. He was a good kid who felt bad for hurting me, even though it didn't happen, and I saw a bit of Presley in how quickly he had become enamored with me and my "mysterious" origins. Sure, probably some red-blooded male interest was part of why he was so interested, but so far he had been nothing but kind and respectable since we escaped the meteor shower.

And it wasn't like I didn't have questions for him either.

He never explicitly said so, but I felt he had given the impression that he didn't know magic, and yet he used some sort of Master power to calm the bandits instantly. If it wasn't magic then... could it have been a power? Obviously this Earth was available to the Agents Cycle, otherwise I would never have arrived here nor would my powers be working like normal, so it stands to reason that other Agents found their way here and to new hosts. With this Earth's years of studying magic, they might have been able to tell the differences in functionality and origin, even if not to the true scope like we had.

Magic itself was a subject that was constantly rattling in my brain, formulating hypothesis after hypothesis for each and every question I could think of. This world felt so carefree in regards to magic and what could be learned, so what did that say about it's limits? Could it only be cast by hand or was that a cultural aspect rather than function? What were the types of magic available beyond healing and apparently manipulating flames? Flight and telekinesis were mentions a few times, but how were they represented? How was magic learned, even? Where did it come from? How long has it existed?

More important to my situation: Did magic play a part in my arrival here?

I had been so caught up in considering the Powers aspect of my arrival, fearing madness from the Stranger Titan or sabotage from a faction of villains, that I hadn't really bothered to think about the other side of the equation. Magic was real and with it were also Dragons, Elves, cat and lizard people, and Mages with unknown capabilities. Was it possible for a Mage to have mastered me so thoroughly that I had no recollection?

The fact that it had happened to me twice now back home... It was all too plausible to deny the possibility.

But that still left a lack of motive. Who would do this and what did they have to gain? Why would they leave me at some border crossing?

Maybe the Stormcloaks were involved, but I couldn't imagine Ralof going through with the plan and Ulfric seemed to know nothing about me, for as little time as I had getting to know them. The Empire that Sevitus served was another option, but again, I couldn't see that read with how they treated me. And would Invictus have trusted me with his son, if they played a part in kidnapping me?

I doubted it.

And the lack of injury. Sevitus claimed to have knocked me unconscious, but I didn't feel any bruising.

Healing was possible, but why waste it on a prisoner?

Doubts, I thought with a grimace. So many doubts.

Doubts that were only matched in questions. Questions that I couldn't bring myself to ask Sevitus.

I couldn't put it in words, not exactly, but I felt that I had made a crucial error in his eyes that widened a gap between us that hadn't been there before. I had felt it when I pressured Dean about his trigger event, forcing him to lie to me, and when Damsel had wrapped her claws around my head in an attempt to regain some sense of power over me. Something hadn't been communicated properly when I decided on the bandits fates or he had read deeper into what I had communicated.

I was brought to mind of Eric's old video games with multiple choice dialogue, letting you be able to keep track of what options had been picked so that you could always cover the bases of the discussion. If you messed up badly enough despite that, you could always reload the game to a point in time where it best suited your needs.

Real life wasn't so easy and I didn't have the benefit of a safety net in proceeding without consequences.

The result was an awkward but extended silence as we traveled along the trail between two mountain ridges, with the brief breaks in-between only consisting of drinking water and scouting the area for potential threats.

Rinse and repeat for what felt like easily two hours, even though the gray and black sky made accurate time-telling nearly impossible.

The silence had grown so ingrained, that Sevitus voice startled me at how loud even a normal speaking volume was.

"Something doesn't feel right."

I looked sharply at him, careful to keep one eye on the trail in front of me so I wouldn't accidentally slam into the nearby mountain.

"Wrong how?"

He shook his head.

I slowed a bit, till I was mostly neck and neck with him. "Sevitus, if there has been any lesson I've learned to appreciate, it's to not ignore that niggling doubt or concern in your mind. What's wrong?"

Sevitus frowned, "It's a gut feeling Antares. I- I'm sure it's nothing."

"Gut feelings are important." I said gravely, "They've saved lives back where I'm from."

He was silent as he rode and I began to worry that I had overstepped my bounds when I had properly figured out what line I had crossed earlier.

"Where are all the people?" He asked, eyes not leaving the trail. "When we came byhere earlier, we passed by Redguard caravans and fellow soldiers scouting out the area for threats. Even a family of Khajit camping off the beaten path. We're just about to reach the gate and I haven't seen head nor tail of anyone."

"Maybe the meteor shower scared them off? Or they went to check on Helgen."

"Maybe. But..." He glanced at me, "The Bandits."

I frowned.

"They were surprised at us being there. As if they never expected Imperial legions traveling through this official border."

I thought back to the confrontation, playing back the words used as best I could.

My frown deepened, "You just brought something else to mind Sevitus."

"What's that?"

"No tracks. Fresh powder on the on the trail, ever since we got back on it. Barely a hint of ash grey in there."

His eyes widened, "And no carriage or horse prints either."

I nodded.

Something wasn't adding up. The pit in my stomach that once held the anger and sadness was now beginning to fill with anxiety, because now there were cracks forming in what should and shouldn't have happened yet. Or at all.

We turned the corner along the trail-

And Sevitus skidded to a halt, Daisy's hooves digging deep to find traction, and I was afraid I would have to use the Fragile One to keep her from injuring herself in the attempt. Daisy surprised me by quickly adjusting herself as she slid, bleeding off inertia and finding traction in the thicker snow blankets while Sevitus reared back along the reins, thighs squeezing against his mount for dear life.

A gentle nudge from a transparent palm kept him from falling back to the point of total collapse.

As Daisy whinnied and trotted in anger at the sudden stop, Sevitus and I had only eyes for what was in front of us.

The gate was there, just as Sevitus had said it would be, built in as the connective tissue between the two opposite mountain sides. Abandoned despite seemingly being a border crossing for the Empire's supply chain.

And in front of it was a stone larger than I was tall, a boulder placed right now the middle of the path, embedded into the ground so hard that dirt clumps rose out around it.

The front was carved in a script only one person could understand, with four large notches embedded below it.

M/S

IIII

"What in the fuck?"

 

[Ridtom]

Candlelight 2.7

⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙​

It was time to get down and nerdy.

Master-Stranger protocols, often overly implemented by some PRT affiliated organizations as the catch-all for any stranger powers possibly being used. I'd studied them with Dean on our various dates, studied them by myself when alone, and I drilled it into my team after our run-in with Goddess.

Unlike with Goddess, the eyes-on protocols were in effect, and I made sure to keep Sevitus in the corner of my vision.

He was brushing Daisy's mane, keeping her or himself calm through the repetition. I couldn't see his face all that well, but I could imagine his confusion and concern with me having told him to keep quiet and not move earlier.

Not like I'm doing so well either.

Black and white text. Documents, interviews, gossip magazines, brief chats with heroes, and briefer chats with my 'cellmates' at the Asylum. All conforming along strict rules to follow, a solid foundation for centering myself.

Which was important, when being angry, reckless, or too passionate would play into the Master-Stranger's influence. It was vital to place oneself into a position where decisions could be made carefully and with a lot of deliberation.

A snowy trail between two mountains didn't really fit the implications of a command center or interrogation room that was present in the documents, but with my forcefield keeping the worst of the cold and light snow out, I was at least only having to deal with internal influences and exclude the external.

Chain of command automatically passed down the chain as though people were dead or out of action. If discussions of the chain of command took more than a set amount of time or if the affected individuals couldn't be trusted or detained, it meant a mission abort to a safe location with self-isolation once there. A good team with the right organization would see the leader step down the moment he might be compromised, the next person taking up the mantle.

Simply mentioned the protocols was supposed to elicit that response, with the second or third or fourth in command taking up leadership depending on the range of the effect. All the while deferring to communication from HQ for orders on how to proceed.

We didn't have any of those options.

I reached and picked up three stones near my feet.

"Antares?"

I would have jumped if I wasn't already floating, but I did nearly crush the rocks into dust in my grip.

"What are you-"

I held a finger to my lips, my face a hard glare. His mouth closed with an audible pop. He pointed to the rock, questioning, but I just shook my head.

He sighed, which was annoying, but otherwise remained silent.

Keep calm. Don't let your frustrations be in control.

Right. Easier said than done, but I've handled worse and... not come out on top. I couldn't say that with a straight face, but I got through it. Survived.

I held the stones around me. I didn't know the vector of the supposed Master-Stranger Power, nor the time of it being implemented or even if it was being implemented at all. That being said, actions taken while under the influence would still have notable consequences and reactions. If not, then the power was so absolute that I was doomed anyways.

In a way, it wasn't that different from when I first woke up in this world.

Test number one.

I tossed the first stone lightly, arcing it so that it landed a foot or so away from the etched boulder. The snow gave a little crunch on impact. I kept Sevitus in the corner of my eye, looking for any obvious tells. No change there, other than looking at me like I was going insane.

No change in sound, no cracks in the way reality held itself, and I didn't feel any external force pressing on me in retaliation.

Okay. Test number two.

I flung the next stone past the boulder, still keeping it within a foot or so of it's radius as it flew by. A louder crunch on impact with the snow near the wooden gate. Still no change.

Test number three then.

A final toss, with stone hitting boulder just at it's peak, careful not to nick any of the words and etchings. It produced a mild clack on collision, but aside from the sound nothing different from the previous tests.

Alright, maybe a new approach was needed.

I flew up and back in a wide curve, bringing in more of the scene with my Thinker one; bird's eye view. Sevitus, the boulder, and the surrounding woodwork leading to the wooden border gate were all together now as I scanned the area. As I shifted from one direction to the other, alternating between buoying up and down, I tried to zero in on any perspective shifts, delayed adjustments to distance, or even simply feeling resistance from the action. If it was the boulder that emanated the effect, then maybe the boulder would be the target of the change. If it was the environment itself, with the boulder being the one anchor to the real world, then there could the be chance that it wouldn't shift to account for the power.

Nothing changed beyond Sevitus's concerned expression.

When I had been networked with Darlene, with Syndicate, I had been able to feel and intuit the sensations of everyone else in the network even from alternate universes. It had been a realization that it couldn't have been that different from how my Fragile One and her kind saw all of reality, from angles that I couldn't begin to perceive.

Can you share that? Let me see through your eyes?

Nothing. Again.

To be fair, that was probably for the best. As much as I sorely wished for that capability right now, there was no telling that I wouldn't be giving up something that was vital to who I was in return. I trusted Fragile One, enough to expect her to save my life back in the dream world, but Natalie had clued me in to the idea that there might be a warped translation between communicating ideas that had to be navigated carefully. She hadn't meant our Agents, not on purpose, but with how close the Titans were... the precautions had some merit.

It still didn't leave me any less frustrated.

I approached the boulder, just barely keeping that ten foot distance as I floated closer. Tentatively, my body tense as I did so, I lifted six pairs of hands and touched the rock barring our path. Hands formed from cosmic alien energy brushed against smooth stone, feeling some bits of grit tumble from the contact. There was no reaction, no jolt as power lanced across my forcefield, nothing aiming to strip me of my mind.

Just normal rock.

I retreated and flew down next to Sevitus, hands on my hips as I considered the situation.

"I think I'm being fucked with."

"Beg pardon?"

I gestured at the boulder, "You see the M and S? Those mean anything to you?"

He shook his head, "Not in the least. Nor do I understand where this stone came from, but it wasn't here originally. Our patrol would have removed it from the path." He looked around, eyes squinting as he zeroed in on the border gate. He scratched his head as a frown formed, "And for anyone to leave this border unguarded... I understand that it's not often traveled but even a skeleton crew would have been preferable to simply abandoning it."

I bit my lip, "I'm beginning to wonder if there were ever any people here at all. We might not even have been here before."

He turned to me, uncomprehending.

"The letters mean Master-Stranger. Back home, that phrase was meant to automatically warn people to beware hostile mental influences. Illusions, mind-control, and memory loss to name a few. Part of what I was doing earlier was some improvised testing, seeing the limits of the supposed effect, among other things. I have some history of dealing with these types of powers, so I know what to look for."

"An illusionist then?" Sevitus frowned, "But to what end? And to what extent?"

"I have a few ideas but nothing definitive. It's mostly just looking at the pieces that I have and trying to consolidate them into a cohesive picture. My lack of memory prior to waking up here, the lack of injuries from supposedly being ambushed, and the lack of any other people or soldiers along this border trail."

"A lot of things lacking," he remarked.

"Exactly." I said, feeling a bit rejuvenated with the discussion, "The lack of explanations are forming pieces of the puzzle. For now, I'm seventy percent sure that the events as you recall them either didn't happen, or if they did happen then they were heavily altered from what actually occurred. Same thing goes for my missing memories, I think."

"But why? And why the rock?"

"I don't know." I admitted, "A lot of this is guesswork. Back home, I was in the middle of battle and my side had landed a pretty devastating blow to our opponents, with me helping that effort along. It could have been an attempt to remove me from play via power interactions and with how many dimensional effects were in use, I can't remove it being a partial accident either. I honestly doubt it, but it's a possibility."

But that still leaves this fucking boulder.

It could be a warning. A message from my world about what was happening to me and that I was actually a victim of some power. With our dives into the Agent's weaker defenses around dreaming, I could imagine Rain or Kenzie trying to reach me here.

It could also be a bluff. Something literally planted here to mislead me in going in one direction rather than another, whatever the fuck those directions actually are.

Times like these made me wish Tattletale was here. Sharp pain in the ass that she was, we could at least bounce ideas off each other and work towards a solution faster thanks to her power and intuition.

"I'm so confused, Lady Antares."

"That makes both of us." I said, ignoring the Lady part, "And that might even be the point of this. Confuse us so badly that it prevents us from going forward."

Sevitus gave a weary sigh, "The descriptions of what you deal with in your homeland exhaust me with their mysteries."

"Ah, right. I owe you a bit more of an explanation."

There was a ghost of a smile there, "It would be appreciated."

"I come from a different world. An alternate universe, if you guys have that sort of terminology."

"Like a... plane of Oblivion?"

"I honestly don't know." I answered tiredly, "Could be that we're using the same meanings with different words. In any case, my world's entire history and culture is different than yours. Even the continents are completely different, unless there are other maps out there of the world. Have you guys sailed around the world yet?"

He shrugged.

"Right. Might have to ask your dad about that one. In any case, my world is very different than this one."

"A world without magic and mer, nor beastmen. With people blessed by gods, as you've mentioned before."

I shrugged, "I guess that falls into interpretation really. Alien beings from space who bond with you in ways I couldn't explain in a hundred years, with unfathomable motives and methodology, and almost incidentally make you feel insignificant? Sound like a god to you?"

"Well... yes?" He answered as though it was a trick question, "I don't know much about these Ahleens, but I've heard many stories about how a god of magic formed our sun and his disciples made the stars. The planets that make up our night sky are said to be our forefathers and gods, above us all and always watching. Your gods do not sound so strange."

"How often do you get proof of them actually existing?"

Sevitus frowned, "The Voice of the Emperor is considered a blessing from the Gods."

Huh. "That's not just magic? I thought you were holding out on me about not knowing much. Seemed similar to Ulfric's magic."

"I know very little, Lady Antares." His voice took on a frustrated edge, "Gifts such as my blessing are different than those of studied mages, and both are different from the Tongues. The Thu'um. I cannot tell you much beyond those facts, but I know for certain that my gift is a gift. To say otherwise... it would be heresy."

He said that last word with a hint of venom, his eyes wide in his speech, as though he were arguing with his life on the line. For a brief moment, I could see a man who could one day become a soldier as gruff and tough as his father was now.

Daisy neighed behind him, clopping one hoof in the snowy trail while fog shot from her snout.

Sevitus paused, and I could see that soldier melt away to the boy that felt guilty for supposedly injuring an innocent person. Folding in on himself wasn't the exact term to use, but it was the best suited for seeing him take a step back and away from me, gaze to the floor while the tension seeped from his body.

Sullenly, he spoke. "My father told me about it. How much of a gift it was and how few loyal Imperials had it."

Seeing him like this, I wondered not for the first time why I was here. Rain or Tristan could have found some commonality with Sevitus in his religion without stepping on his toes. Sveta would have been able to see what the right path of action to take was here, and Byron might have been able to keep a stronger perspective. I wasn't unconvinced Kenzie couldn't have just built her way back home by the end of the day, if she didn't get distracted.

As much as it hurt to think about her, Ashley could have at least pretended to know what to do better than I ever could.

I was reminded of my brief time as a part time mod for PHO debate forums, partly for enjoyment, partly to share my behind-the-scenes-knowledge, all of it egotistical for a sixteen year old. For a while, there was a running meme that capes who fell into the jack of all trades category were often the least effective on their own, with many debates looking only at the powers involved compared to those who mastered a style or theme of Caping.

I had never considered myself as part of that category, and my rising popularity in the Bay seemed as vindication enough to reinforce that perspective, but I also felt that they weren't giving enough of those capes a fair shake. I would comment and argue about how a skilled cape with support powers or even multiple weaker powers could pull as much weight as Alexandria or Legend when things got rough in a battle.

I don't think the younger me was wrong to believe that in that idea, but having seen how far capes like Legend, Valkyrie, and Dragon could go with their focus, I was now realizing that real limits I faced. Nothing in my powerset was proving useful in getting me home, my knowledge was lost in translation and culture, and I didn't have access to the right frame of mind to parse what information I was given. If someone wanted to take me out of action, then I had to say they did a damn good job.

In terms of hypothetical scenarios, I don't think younger me would have been confident in my current chances.

So what are you going to do about it?

Apologize for being an asshole for starters.

I sighed, keeping my arms crossed and meeting his fleeting eyes. "I didn't mean to sound like I was belittling your religion Sevitus. I know it's shitty of me to say when I did it earlier too, but I'm really not trying to play games or insult your customs. I know you must have a lot of question and trust me, I get it. It's just... I'm just..."

I looked back at the boulder. It's carved letters and five notches seemed to silently mock me as I stood on the precipice of one action or the other, as though any and all would be the wrong course to take.

"....I'm just feeling lost right now."

It was quiet for a moment, so quiet that I wondered if he actually would accept my apology at all and the guilt from that hurt more than I expected. It felt a lot like I imagined letting Presley down would.

Which made it all the more surprising when he spoke, "Only the one question for now. How can I help?"

I frowned, "Are you sure? I know it's not fair to be left in the dark like this."

"To be quite honest, I'm really just happy you aren't a Daedra in disguise. Wasn't sure what to do if that was the case, especially when you saved my life. Do Daedra take life-debts?"

"I don't even know what a Daedra is, Sevitus."

"Oh. Right."

"And don't worry about life-debts," I said. "That's not the kind of person I want to be. You should save people just because it's the right thing."

He nodded, "In that case, it would mean that I have to save you anyways. Right?"

I blinked, "Huh. You got me there."

He smiled sheepishly and I couldn't help but return one of my own. The tension wasn't quite gone, but maybe the worst had been neatly side-stepped for now.

Yeah, for now.

I thought for a bit, "The best way to help right now is to narrow down our theories. Right now I'm putting a lot of focus on my world's side of the equation, but you just reminded me that magic is also in play here."

"Magic is always a tricky business, from what I hear."

"I'm taking your word for it," I said. "So, Magic. What is it and how do you get it?"

His brows furrowed, "Its been years since the lessons back in training. From what I recall, Magic is simply something that exists in everything on Mundus. Um, your 'Earth' as you'd call it. Plants, animals, men and mer, beastmen, Gods and Daedra all use magic. Or can use magic. It's not really something you gain, so much as something you can have an aptitude for, like swordsmanship or singing or-"

I held up a hand, "Okay, hold on, that's a lot to take in. Magic exists in everybody and anyone can use it?"

He nodded.

"Then- wait, hold on, something doesn't add up. If anyone could just learn magic, then why were there so few healing mages then? That was the whole issue with me having to race to Whiterun in the first place!"

"Magic has fallen out of favor, due to the Oblivion Crisis, Antares. It's not shunned within the Empire, but many have become wary of those who become too enamored with it. Coupled with the time needed to train and often a lack of proper teachers, then I imagine it makes people wary to invest time in it."

I swallowed, thinking of the potion in my satchel, "Does healing magic have drawbacks? After effects?"

"What? No. Not unless you're an undead I suppose. It's literally a life-saver to have."

"So you can use healing magic then?"

"Oh, no." Sevitus said, shaking his head, "I was never interested in the magical arts. I much prefer the sword to the spells."

"...Why?" I asked, unable to hide my incredulity, "Why wouldn't you want to know how to heal yourself or others with no drawbacks? Or even just telekinesis like you thought I had?"

He rubbed his chin in thought, "I don't know. It just never appealed to me as a soldier I suppose. I always fell asleep when we had to study texts about magic, personally. A few of my fellow brothers and sister in steel have mentioned something similar."

I took a deep breath, trying to not melt my brain with the implications of this world's access to various degrees of what were basically super-powers. And not wanting it.

I let out the breath, "Fine. Okay. Sure. You mentioned Illusionists earlier, so that means this world has people who mess with the mind using magic?"

"We do. My father once told me a tale of a Dark Elf turning a small company of Imperials into madmen, stoked into a frenzy of slaughter."

Like Love Lost. "Then there is a chance that this an illusionary effect? It can't be dismissed out of hand then?"

Sevitus nodded, "I suppose it's possible. From what I hear, it's usually not so subtle, but if we are already effected then we wouldn't know would we?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself. " I agreed. "Got anything that might help us here?"

"Unfortunately not. I'm really starting to regret not studying enough. We do have the College of Winterhold though. They should know more about these kinds of magics than even the average mage."

I couldn't stop the amusement seeping into my tone, "You have a school for witchcraft and wizardry?"

A look of abject horror crossed his face, "Gods no! Witches would sooner harvest your heart for a sacrifice than help teach you anything! Don't catch any mages hearing you talk like that, lest you earn their ire or curse!"

Why do I even try to be funny sometimes?

"Right, don't mention Witches. Anything else you need to warn me about?"

He paused, "Just a moment."

Sevitus turned to the border gate, eyes narrowed. With that profile, there was a sharp edge to him that struck me as peculiar, like he was unconsciously copying a routine he'd seen before.

His fingers tapped against old armor as he spoke, "We might find more clues in the border barracks. Notes and supplies perhaps. It's worth checking out I think."

Sevitus stepped forward, only to stumble slightly as a hand took hold of his fur cloak. The act was instinctual and without thought, barely at the edge of my control. Barely, because while I wanted to get his attention back on magic, I was going to use my flesh and blood hand, not the ones she had been cursed with.

"No." I said, and meant it.

"No?" He asked, bewildered.

There was a sense of concern at that random act from my power, but it wasn't in that she had reached out without my bidding. The concern was that something was wrong with Sevitus or the actions Sevitus was about to take, something that resulted in a surety that this had to be stopped somehow. The only comparison I could make was when Win had shown me Amy's threat rating, but I couldn't help but feel as though the real danger was hidden in plain sight.

Or in this case, I hadn't accounted for the right kind of trigger for.... whatever this place was.

A gut feeling. She had been so quiet when I was investigating the rock, but when Sevitus considered moving past that border... It was there.

She was with me, trying to get my attention.

"No." I repeated, feeling that connection die down slightly. "We'll head back to camp, make sure your dad sees you alive and well. For now, tell me everything you know about the College."

 

[Ridtom]

Candlelight 2.8

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I'd seen a lot of weird shit since I got here, shit that would make even the most experienced of Capes blink twice, which was saying something considering how utterly fucked my universe could be. I'd seen victims of the Slaughterhouse Nine, my time in the Asylum saw me share a living space with multiple other people who were tortured by powers and while I looked at my time with Breakthrough with a real sense of love, it was also marked with people I loved being torn apart and worse.

That was without accounting for every fucked up thing that had happened to me in that short timespan. Getting shot, nearly impregnated, skin melted off, technically dying from leaping off of a cliff-face into solid rock. I'd been through the fucking wringer and then some.

So I was a bit proud of myself for only freezing for a few moments when Sevitus and I stumbled onto a scene involving dozens of dog-sized spiders clambering over each other as they tried to climb up a tree.

"Help! For all the love of your inbred-fucking ancestors! Help! Me!"

One leg wrapped around a limb like a vice-grip, Rave swung her bow with all her strength, the carved wood smashing into the eye of the closest spider. The mutant twitched with inhuman reactions, flailing and falling back off the tree trunk and into the pile beneath it. It's fall took down a few in it's wake, but an equal number were soon skittering up to replace them.

Jesus fuck. Skitter eat your heart out.

Rave let out another scream as the spiders closed the distance and I flew forward, not taking a moment to see what Sevitus's reaction was. My aura was blaring at max output as I dove into the fray, Fragile One prepared for action around me. I had no idea how giant arachnids would handle induced fear, especially when human reactions could be so varied, but anything would be better than seeing someone eaten by spiders.

The spiders visibly paused as my aura reached them and whatever they felt from the power, the results were immediate as they scurried in a mad scramble. More than a few set about attacking each other on the spot, curling around each other gruesomely in balls of death and madness. In that chaos though, some of the spiders located the source of the fear and went on the attack.

The fact that said attack involved literally spitting web as projectile weapons was not something I expected. Still, the Fragile One's hands swept out and around me, slapping aside the moist webbing with ease as the lack of traction allowed the attack to slip off harmlessly. As I closed the distance, several of the spiders leapt into the air, easily crossing a distance twice as tall as Sevitus was.

Those same fragile hands took hold of the closest spiders' mandibles and legs, whipping the mutant to the side in a fluid motion that saw it slam into the oncoming creature with a sickening crunch. Yellow blood or pus billowed out from the collision, but there was enough mass left for me to chuck the corpse at another leaping spider, sending it crashing into a nearby tree with a large crack and spray of blood.

I landed in front of the maddened horde, hands reaching down into the snow for ammunition. One spider ventured too close and got a splitting kick that sheared it's body in half, sending most of it flipping upwards from the blow and the rest of it's steaming entrails onto the snow.

Four of my hands found serviceable weapons; three pebbles and a stick.

Let 'em fly.

The pebbles were sent rocketing out at speeds faster than sound, each piece of rock obliterating a spider that strayed into it's path, one even taking out a second spider behind the first with enough force to have chitin scatter through the air. The stick didn't have enough mass to be thrown fatally, but it could serve other uses if I was creative enough-

A spider landed in front of me and I stabbed down, impaling it's torso with the wooden weapon and pinning it in place. Even then, the monster didn't immediately die, all eight legs trying to dig into the ground for traction. My own eight hands took hold of the body and pulled in different directions.

Nothing useful from the bits I'd retrieved and I was left to drop it's remains to the snow.

The numbers had thinned. I'd killed seven myself and I could see Sevitus leap atop another, iron sword piercing it's skull and then dragged long-ways through it's body in on smooth motion. Two more had been killed by their brethren and the remaining two were visibly injured from the scuffle.

Sevitus and I charged at the same time, and as injured as the creatures were, they still forced themselves to met our attack. One spider's ball of webbing was cut out of the sky by Sevitus's blade, and a follow up thrust saw him cleave it's foremost legs in pieces. A second swing cut through it's eyes then skull and the mutant dropped.

My opponent leapt at me, fangs longer than my hand bared, only to be literally slapped aside. The spider crumpled on landing, not even capable of giving off a death twitch.

Twelve mutant spiders dead, torn apart in various ways, and all I could think was that I had no fucking idea what just happened.

I looked to Sevitus, "Do I even I want to ask?"

He scowled as he used a cloth to wipe yellow gunk from his blade, "Frost Spider brood. Must have lost it's Mother and went foraging for prey. I'd seen one or two in small caves, but never so many in one place. Never wanted to."

"Yeah," I nodded. "Yeah, I could have done without that nightmare fuel."

I was scouring the surroundings, making sure no spiders where waiting for us to let our guard down, when I noticed.

"Where the hell are the bandits?"

"What?" Sevitus followed my gaze, "Oh for Kynes' sake!"

Hours ago, I had left a dozen men trapped atop tree branches, easily twenty to thirty feet of a fall once I broke the branches beneath them.

And now it was empty, barring the weapons I had buried into it's body.

Sevitus sounded immensely tired as he spoke, "I think I see some tracks leading across the main trail. I'll give them a brief look, but I'm guessing the bandit girl would know best."

I nodded, but couldn't afford to meet his eyes. The sound of his feet crunching snow felt especially heavy.

I fucked up. I fucked up big time.

But how? That had been a drop that could kill or cripple normal people and yet all of them just... walked it off? How did some of them even get free?

I flew up to the opposite tree where Rave was situated, lying prone along one of the branches and hugging her bow close to her. As I approached I could see her wiping her eyes with her sleeves, careful to keep her face out of view.

"You okay?"

"Bal's balls I am," she said with a hoarse voice. She looked up at me, "I can't climb down. Busted my ankle on a bad landing."

"But you could climb a tree to escape mutant spiders." I said incredulously.

She shook her head, "Guff gave me a boost so I could get my bow. Couldn't get down and then the spiders found me."

"They left you?"

She scowled at me, an animalistic expression I'd seen on Bitch before, pure anger and frustration coming to the fore. She seemed to remember that I was someone who could tear steel like paper, because a brief look of concern crossed her face before she turned away, refusing to meet my gaze.

"Hear, let me take you down. I'll be gentle."

I took hold of her and peeled her from her branch, careful not to jostle her too badly. She seem more focused on keeping her bow held closely and if I put her in any pain, she didn't say anything.

I dropped down slowly, hovering an inch or so above the snow and letting her touch the ground. She hissed and then leaned against the blood-stained tree, lifting one ankle off slightly to not put pressure on it.

I could empathize with that at least, "How bad is it? Broken?"

"Sprained I think. Divines this day has gone to shit."

Isn't that the truth.

"I'm honestly surprised they left you here alive." Sevitus commented, back from inspecting the trail left behind from the fleeing bandits. "You were pretty much dead-weight to them and a big security risk if you point us in the right direction."

"Guff knows I ain't a squealer, no matter what irons you dig into me. Ah've got grit and they respect that, not that you'd understand soldier boy. We don't get fancy tents and swords paid for by the squawking folk in your holds. We're survivors, we take what we got from the land and from weaker, softer, fools who might as well drink from their mother's tit. You can't break a bond based on needing to hunt down a pack of wolves together to live through a winter with barely any scraps of cloth. It's thicker than blood and water."

"They left you." I repeated. "You seriously would have died if we hadn't come back for you."

I saw a flicker of that scowl, even turned away, but she didn't say anything in response.

"We should honestly finished the job," Sevitus said, hand going to his sword hilt. "Less chance of her slowing us down or trying to stab us in the back."

Rave twisted up, her eyes wide, and tried to back away. Her injured leg gave out and she fell back a centimeter before my hands caught her, holding her in place.

Likewise, Sevitus was still, unable to find the strength or leverage to draw his blade.

"Antares-"

"We are not murdering her Sevitus," I said sternly. "I thought that I made that clear when I killed a giant spider to save her."

Sevitus sighed, "Antares, what do you think will happen to her when we return to the camp? She either pays the hefty fine for banditry, she rots in a jail cell for most of her life, or they just execute her instead of wanting to take care of another mouth to feed. I doubt she has any gold on her person and if she's in prison, she'll probably be killed or worse by a variety of nasty critters and people. She's just not worth it."

I was silent for a moment, taking him in, and I could already feel how my posture shifted slightly in the air. A position I'd taken a few times when dealing with something unpleasant, but not necessarily threatening.

I was beginning to grow a bit annoyed with how often he seemed to lapse into this kind of mentality.

"What was going to happen to me, Sevitus?"

His soldier-like expression that I found so aggravating cracked and crumbled, revealing the boy beneath it. "That isn't fair, Antares."

"It's not about fairness Sevitus. Just answer honestly about what you and your father would have done to me, had I not woken up in time."

He stood there for a time, a young man wearing old hand-me-down armor that his father gave him, hanging off slightly since he hadn't grown into them quite yet. I wondered if this was how Jessica had seen Chris at first, a poor kid trapped with a mind of a man or a man trapped with the hormonal body of a kid.

"We should go." He said, backing away from my hands. He turned to the main trail and walked back to Daisy. "If we don't move soon it'll be too dark before we make enough headway."

I... I didn't know how to feel about him not answering the question. I wanted him to understand that things weren't so cut and dry now, not with this Master-Stranger bullshit fucking with our heads. If I wanted to, I could even consider this as him acquiescing to that unspoken statement... but it didn't feel right. It didn't feel like he truly understood the message that I had wanted to get across and I wasn't sure why that was.

Sveta had said that we both tended to judge others slightly for not stepping up and doing the right thing, consciously and unconsciously. Was that a factor here? That I wanted him to outright say that his means of enacting justice wasn't right? Was it just annoyance and frustrations boiling over and spilling out to harm him like lava?

Sevitus was already mounting Daisy, the bow strung along her side, still resolutely looking down the main-trail.

"I can't ride with him," Rave murmured. "He'll toss me off the side and break my neck."

"You're not riding with him," I answered. I placed a hand, a real hand, on her shoulder and pushed out with my aura. With my body acting as a conduit, she was given a purer taste of my power, a pulse of fear. Rave gasped a bit and tried to back off, but my grip was like a vice. "You're going to behave yourself. You are not going to talk to Sevitus, you aren't even going to talk to me unless it's urgent or if I ask you a question. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

I released her from my grip, but kept the aura churning just enough for her to be in reach. "Tell me if this get painful for you."

I shifted the Fragile One's hands around Rave, keeping focus on getting a grip along her waist, shoulders, and back of the head. I lifted her up off the ground and she whimpered.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No." She grit out, both eyes closed. "I... I hate being raised up so high."

Ah. Right.

"I'll keep us flying low. Bare with it unless your leg starts acting up, I'll try to keep it as comfortable as I can."

Sevitus was watching, an expression that for the first time I really couldn't read on his face, before he spurred Daisy onwards. I maneuvered the Fragile One so that Rave was to my back and not forced to withstand the cold wind as I flew to catch up.

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"We should have kept going."

"Not a good idea Antares, not with how wolves and Frost Spiders hunt. The bandit girl was lucky there was still daylight. Night time is when the Spider Mothers go out to hunt for their broods."

Rave shivered at the mention of the spiders, pulling herself closer to the fire, allowing the light to outline the bruises on her face and the amateur war-paint she shared with her gang of raiders.

Sevitus glared at her for a moment before going back to tending the fire, his small blanket draping his shoulders.

I crossed my arms, "Not even another mile or two?"

"In this light? Or lack of it? Antares, I'd be concerned about Daisy hitting the road wrong more than the beasts that lurk in these woods. Not to mention she's exhausted from traveling and I'm tired of riding her. If we rest now, I promise you we will get up extra early in the morning to get that head-start back to camp. But I can't risk night travel in good conscience, not when we have... baggage."

Baggage. He meant Rave and from the brief scowl on her face, she knew it too. I, however, was thinking of an entirely different kind of baggage.

I floated up slightly, peering past the barricade I set up around the camp. Night had fallen and Sevitus had been adamant about making camp away from the main-road, but away from any major groupings of trees. The main road was an easy target for bandits like Rave's group to follow and too many trees together meant things called 'Spriggans' could nest there. My suggestion for a cave was denied as well; too many animals like wolves, bears, and werewolves made those their homes.

Fucking werewolves. That was an honest to god concern for camping on this fucked up planet. Vampires, Elves, Dragons, Werewolves, and Magic Rocks.

Fine. Whatever.

With fucking werewolves on the mind, I set to the task of breaking down the smaller trees nearby and laying them down at an angle around our campsite near the base of one of the mountains. I had been worried about them being alone with each other for more than a few minutes, but the both of them seemed a lot more interested in my depositing of trees than any arguments.

It had taken a few trips before it occurred to me that neither of them had seen feats of strength like that before, which could point to magic not normally amplifying strength or telekinesis to that extent. The following thought was that it might also mean that I was the strongest person on this planet.

That thought made me feel mucho uncomfortable, to butcher a quote from an old Alexandria show. Goddess had been the most powerful person on Shin and her mistakes left a way for people like Amy and Chris to find more victims. Eidolon fell from grace. Scion betrayed everyone.

Where did that leave me?

Yeah, mucho uncomfortable.

Better to look out into that dark wilderness and think about home than to consider the consequences of me staying here any longer. Considering my track record on introspection, it was far easier said than done.

"I'll take first watch," Sevitus said from below, beginning to stand.

"What?" I turned to him, "How does that make any kind of sense?"

He paused mid-movement, glancing up at me, "You're both-"

He stopped, mouth open, then shut it.

I raised an eyebrow. It wasn't a hard to imagine what he was planning to say and at least he had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Tired? Sevitus, you've been horse-riding all day." I said, giving him a lifeline. "It's been years since I've done it, but I do remember how sore I was after. If you're half as exhausted as Daisy is, then you need to rest up first."

He made a pained face, "It doesn't feel right."

It was corny, but I actually did find it sort of charming in a naïve sort of way. Maybe I had just gotten used to seeing Sevitus like that, rather than what he was trained to be.

"I've flown all day today Sevitus. I've basically done nothing tiring all day." Physically. Emotionally? Well he didn't need to know that. "I'll keep watch for the first four hours, you cover the last few. If anything happens I'll do this-"

I sent out a brief pulse of my aura, seeing how Rave and Sevitus both flinched slightly.

"-And it'll wake you up, one- ninety percent sure."

He glanced between Rave and I, "Promise?"

"Promise."

He nodded. Then nodded harder, like he was really trying to convince himself this was a good idea.

Still, he turned and went to his bed-roll near Daisy, curling up under the blankets as best he could while wearing his armor. I wasn't quite surprised when I heard snoring that was too jarring to be faked coming from his direction.

Rest up kid. You deserve it after what I put you through.

A whisper cut in, "Your man is the worrisome sort huh? Not my type, but at least he's got a decent body to look at."

I raised an eyebrow at that.

Rave had shifted in her cot to face me, hands and feet tied together using the leftover rope we scrounged up. With the way the light hit her, it seemed to make the swollen and bruised parts of her to be etched in shadow, while her scar and paint glistened.

"Must be a damn good lay to get a Battle Mage like you on the side."

"I thought I said not to talk to me unless absolutely necessary." I said archly.

"Come on," she whispered, rolling her eyes. "I've kept my trap shut for hours after you dragged me through that the air. And I get the feeling you mostly didn't want me to upset your man."

"He's not my man and you're vastly underestimating how much I dislike you. Maybe you should take those as a hint about where this conversation will lead you."

She frowned, dark green-eyes glowing from the light. "You kept my bow safe. Even after you called my bluff, you didn't snap it in front of me. Why not?"

I crossed my arms, not saying anything.

"I'll tell ya why I think so." She continued, "I think it's cause you're strong. Well, I know that obviously, you uprooted trees from the ground for oblivion's sake. But most Mages, hells, most people I've seen who got that kind of power would lord it over others. I don't just mean the bandits either. Imperials, Stormcloaks, Thalmor, even Priests, they all act like the realm revolves around them. You notice that? I'm sure you have."

I thought back to everyone in power that I had met here. Claudya. Irileth. Ulfric. Even Invictus initially.

"Yeah," she said as though I answered her. "But not you. Nah, nah, you tried to give our little dozen an out. Avoid the fighting, because you knew how it would end."

Her whisper grew in intensity, "I think you've honed this strength. Yeah, you've experienced going a little crazy, a little drunk on power. I'm guilty of it even, taking my time with potshots on a rival gang or giving some fat merchant a head start to test my aim. Don't give me that look. I aint got shit for brains when it comes to books or writing, but I can do a fine job of seeing people at their worst because I've been at my worst."

You are the worst.

Rave leaned in close, almost manic in how she smiled, the bruises getting a bit more light from the movement. "Aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you wanna go Daedric? My gang back there would accept you with open arms. Not gonna lie, if you dropped me off there, they'd probably kill me even if Guff tried to stop them. But if you come with me, ditch the boring soldier boy... well you get worshipped I bet. Probably given leadership if you throw a tree or two to scare them. Men, women, they'll supply you with whatever you want."

"I aint saying that you gotta let go all your rules or what not. Not asking you to kill your soldier boy either. But come on, let's ditch him for something bigger yeah? You kept my bow safe, so let me guide you to a way of living where you can relax a bit, to return the favor. Hell, I'll even change my ways if you want, I'll nail every defiling man to the wall with the bits their legs if you want me too."

A memory came to mind. Amy in Shin, promising to change her ways, go to that therapist and seek out help... so long as I went with her. Later, offering to get me and my team out of prison early... if I just talked to her for a bit. Even later, saying she'd go with my plan to fight the Machine Army... and then attempted to murder my best friend in the whole world.

I don't have rules, not like she did back then.

But I have fucking morals.

"-have to talk about what groups to hit, but that can wait-"

"Please stop talking." I said, "I kind of want to throw you into a hillside so hard your brain rattles."

"A- A what?"

I looked into her eyes, my tone calm and collected as I spoke, "I've done it before. And the mountain is right here."

Those green eyes of her searched my own and I took a fair bit of pleasure in seeing her fucking smile crumble. She shut up, her swollen mouth pressed firmly into a line as she laid down near the dying light of the fire.

I sighed and turned back towards the ever seeking darkness that encroached on our camp. Was it a mistake to spare her? To drag her with me? It wasn't like Etna, who was a fuckup of epic proportions, but at least got a clue and went full-blown hero after. Rave reveled - no - raved about the horrible acts she committed and any change to her person would only come by as a means of getting me on her side.

Despite that, despite every little bit of bullshit she uttered to me just now, I couldn't let her be murdered in good conscience. It would go against everything that I promised the pieces that made up the Victoria of breakthrough. Even the parts of Glory Girl that I had accepted wouldn't be okay with it.

The Fragile One surrounded me, engulfed me in it's protective shell and trapped the warmth of the fire within itself. I loosened the control I had over her, partially to experiment, mostly because I needed some company without any overly complicated strings attached.

Considering our history, that's saying something, isn't it girl?

She didn't respond beyond having impossibly strong hands and feet brush against cloth and snow. I waited to see if I needed to prevent her from crushing something important or awakening Sevitus, but there was only the soft touches. I could feel every head looking in the same direction I was, my allies peering into the blackness, daring it to make a move.

I hated this. Loathed it. Forced to stay a full day and night in a reality that wasn't my own, while my team faced cosmic horrors without me, and innocent people dying in a war that I brought them into.

I wondered if I could convince Sevitus to let me keep watch the entire night. I didn't want to deal with the nightmares. Not when I knew I would wake up to this world again.

You helped me out back there. Thank you for that. I don't know what I would be doing without you.

No response there either. That was okay.

We'd handle this together.

⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙​

Then

The evening sky was a dark green and where that green met the low orange of setting sun, one could see how the colors twisted around each other in layers of tendrils rather than mix. The result of such a light show breaching through half-closed blinds was an almost psychedelic effect as the contrasting colors projected onto blank white walls.

Lyo-Leo prowled his territory amid the dying light, mighty paws of cotton causing the bed-sheets to tremble in his wake and dust-bunnies were left to quiver in fear under the bed.

Dean watched helplessly as Lyo-Leo approached, unable to tear his eyes away from the lion's figure, knowing that running away wasn't an option anymore.

With my helping hand, I lifted Lyo-Leo into the air and pressed him so close to Dean's face that their noses were touching.

"Rawr." I said, because Lyo-Leo could not.

"Ahhh." Dean uttered, his monotone conveying paralyzing fear.

I lowered my voice as dramatically as I could, "What's someone as delicious as you doing in my Kingdom?"

"I'm sorry, Lyo-Leo-"

I had Lyo-Leo bat Deans face with a stuffed paw, the limb bouncing off harmlessly. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"It is Lord Lyo-Leo, to you, my dessert."

"Not lunch, Mr. Lord Lyo-Leo?"

I batted his other cheek with a paw, smiling, "No mister needed. And you're too sweet for lunch."

"Please, spare the face," Dean said. "It's the only thing my girlfriend likes about me."

"Rawr. You think she only likes you because of your pretty face?"

"It's all I got going for me." Dean put out an overly exaggerated sigh, "She's so smart and beautiful, kind and compassionate, always up to date in fashion. She has this thing where when she laughs she feels like she has to cover up because she gets self-conscious, even though her giggles are impossibly adorable. Whenever she's frustrated she scrunches her face like she's const-"

I buried Lyo-Leo over Dean's pretty face, muffling him, while trying to ignore how flushed my own was. "Stupid. Dumbass. Moron."

His hand snaked out, a finger prodding me in my armpit, and I let out a squeak as I drew back. Poor Lyo-Leo fell from my grasp, revealing a smirking Dean.

"Brutes are ticklish. Better update the Protocols."

I gave a mock scowl, "Oh, I'll show you ticklish!"

I used flight to catch him by surprise, grabbing his wrists and twisting him onto the bed so that he was laid-back while I floated above him. Still keeping his arms pinned, I took a note from the lion playbook and went for the throat, vicious kisses peppering him. He squirmed beneath me, struggling in vain while laughing breathlessly.

"Mercy!" He called out, louder than he'd normally be as he tried not to laugh.

That was fine. My parents were out of the house on a date night and Amy still had an hour before she finished her hospital shift. I had even texted Crystal to warn me if her family was going to give me a surprise visit, and she had given me her promise.

Which means I don't have to show you any mercy.

He looked like he was gonna cry out again, so I put a stop to that by pressing my lips to his. I could feel his breathe leave him and enter me, heart still running wild after my prolonged tickle torture, but he was quick to adapt to the circumstance as he returned my eagerness with his own. My heart was currently doing Olympic gymnastics.

We broke the kiss, meeting each other's eyes, both faces red and panting.

"Safari's would be one hundred percent cooler with jungle cats like you."

I smiled, "Rawr."

I kissed him again, longer, feeling that connection that went beyond the physical grow between us. There was a sense of surety in that connection, pure righteousness, that we could conquer evil and protect the weak together. It was what I imagined my mom and dad felt when they moved in-synch on the battlefield, facing down monsters of every stripe.

Love. True love. The kind that withstands the occasional fight and bounces back even stronger in the aftermath, because it was just right. There was nothing fragile about it.

I could never lose if I have you by my side.

I broke the kiss, nuzzling against his neck again as I pressed myself on top of him. Feeling him entirely, letting him feel me in return, and allowing that connection to resound in my mind. We stayed like that for long moments, just embracing each other, not quite willing to get into the rude stuff. That could come later.

"Do you ever get the feeling that things are coming to a head," Dean broke the silence. "And that even though you can feel and see these things reaching that head, you have no idea what you can do about it?"

I spoke into his neck, "I could show you what you could do about that feeling."

I felt a breath leave him, "Down girl."

I smiled a bit, glad to have gotten the laugh out of him. "Something happen with your parents again?"

"Sort of. They've always been there on that road, but now I can see C- Aegis there, standing beside them on a different road. Other people too, bottling up stuff to a boiling point."

"Is this in the abstract or is meant to be literal?"

"Yes."

I lightly bit him, growling.

I could feel the smile as he spoke, "Sorry, couldn't resist. But also sort of serious of an answer. Aegis is going to graduate soon and Clockblocker right after him, leaving me as the Ward captain. My parents are always putting pressure on me to leave the cape life, but once those two graduate that ultimatum they gave me will be shoved in my face every day."

"And the others?"

He was quiet for a moment, normally quick-witted Dean taking his time.

"I think," He said slowly, "I can handle the others. There are steps I could take to put them off that path. But that still leaves the big two and I just don't know what to do about them."

I could understand it. My life prior to getting powers was going down a similar track, if perhaps in reverse. Where Dean felt as though he was hurtling towards parts of his life he was destined to confront, I had felt as though my destiny was being denied no matter what I did. Yeah, opposite paths, but the result was still the same.

Anxiety. Fear. Loneliness. Burning that candlelight at both ends.

Can't have that.

I squeezed him harder, "Mhm. Typical Thinker neurosis. You've overlooked something major."

I could feel him shift slightly and I looked up at him. His blue eyes met my own, searching.

"Me. In every one of those roads, those paths, I'm there with you. You stay in the city for your parents, I'll be here to visit your office when you get lonely. You leave the city as a star member of the Protectorate, I join and support you."

"You shouldn't force yourself to live your life according to my issues."

I rose up, using flight to balance myself, straddling him. I pressed a single finger against his chest and pushed him back down onto the bed, my long hair falling down around him. "The only thing I'm forcing is getting that simple fact through your head. You're mine and I'm yours. We get through the dark shit together, because we're stronger together, and because I love you."

His eyes were glistening, just a bit. Now that I was giving him my undivided attention, I could see how scared he was, how vulnerable. I wanted to kiss those tears away and would if he gave me the chance. "Even if my pretty face gets mauled by monster?"

"You have the personality to make up for it."

He laughed, "I love you too. Dahmaan daar los ni vahzen."

"Good," I said, adjusting my position. "Now show me that you mean it."

He did. We did.

Together.

 

[Ridtom]

Candlelight 2.9

⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙​

A heavy crack hung in the air and I felt my body tense for destruction.

I felt like I could understand capes like the Flower of Hetacomb, Ex Nihilo, and even Goddess a little bit better now. Capes who were ripped from their homes by a power they had no context for, left stranded dimensions away surrounded by strangers with a foreign mindset and no guide to getting back home. The feeling of being so utterly lost that you might as well be on the ocean floor looking for a gleam of light to point you at the sky, oppressive in a way that rattled you down to your core, threatening to crack it like glass.

Or ice.

More cracks, smaller than the previous one, rang out and my palms hurt from squeezing my fists too hard. The wet sensations could have been sweat or blood, but either one of them made my artificial flesh feel so much more like a prison, the real Victoria Dallon swimming beneath a mixture of cat and dog bones packed in tightly by cat and dog meat. Skin that was crafted by insects, eyes the amalgamation of pets, hair strung together by fur and fibers.

The darkness was all encompassing without the protection of the campfire, and the bottomless ocean felt all too real. I wanted to summon the Fragile One, to have her shelter me from these thoughts as she would from even Scion. But I couldn't if that meant the cracks finding that channel to this place via whatever extra-dimensional tether my powers produced when activated by my Agent. It was an assumption for how the Titans formed, but I felt like it was along the right track at least.

Unfortunately that track meant I couldn't afford to use my newfound protector to her greatest effect.

So this is how I go then? This world and I helplessly swallowed up by Fortuna?

Fuck that, I wanted to say. No fucking way.

But the night had passed and I was still here in Tamriel. An alien world with concepts of power that I couldn't wrap my head around, and I'd left behind the only possible clue to getting back home on a gut feeling. My team was in the midst of fighting monsters like Victor and the Stranger Titan, Rain desperately exploring the inner workings of the Agent systems, and the civilians were stuck in the middle trying to do the best they could with what we could provide them.

What happened in the twenty or so hours since I arrived here? How many died without my Gun to supply covering fire on approaching Titans? How many were drained of their knowledge, turned into mountains of scrabbling flesh, or driven horrifically insane at a glance?

With me gone, I could see Tristan trying to pick up the reigns for Breakthrough and work with Tattletale to find some answers. Trying being the key word. I could recall their expressions and attitudes during the opening fights with heartbreaking clarity, and I wasn't confident that either of them were capable of balancing their own sense of helplessness with the drive to keep moving forward.

Fucking hypocritical of you to say Victoria.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I rose from the sleeping bag.

Sevitus was poking the ashes of the campfire with the bottom of his sandals, shifting snow onto the wood remnants. The crackling sound they made had my skin crawling, which really didn't help that ocean I was trapped under.

Sevitus gave me a small smile, "Sleep well?"

I stretched, feeling back and shoulders pop under flesh. The aches and pains from my fights were still going strong, which was a relief. "I've slept better."

"I heard. You mumbled in your sleep a fair bit."

"Nothing embarrassing I hope?" I tried to keep my tone light, but my brain was already running damage control for anything I might have said.

He shook his head, "Nothing that I could make sense of. Apologies if that was rude to bring up."

It was, but I didn't feel like confronting something so minor right now, not when I wasn't in my best headspace. The dreams had been unpleasant but not in a way that could easily be remembered.

The sky was still clouded in ash and fog, lending to the darkness of the early morning, and the cold air clashed with the warmth I'd gained in the bed. There was a melancholic sense of nostalgia with the cold and snow, because my team had formed when winter was on the horizon, and even light showers meant ice and snow soon after in the months preceding.

It would be all too easy to lose myself in those thoughts, like I had been as I laid awake.

Sevitus kicked the bag next to me, producing a cough and groan from Rave.

"Get up. We're getting ready to leave."

I frowned and stood up myself, "You didn't have to kick her Sevitus."

A mix of emotions crossed his face before he sighed, "Apologies, Antares."

"No apologies for me you prick?!" Rave squirmed her top half out of the bag, scowling at him, "So tough when you got a lady tied up and a mage to keep you safe. Why don't you untie me right now and I'll show you a real kick in the ribs?"

"No one is going to be kicking anyone in the ribs." I interrupted.

"He just did!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Do not make me mom you right now.

Rave continued to cuss out Sevitus as I packed up my bag and straightened out my armor set. It hadn't been the most comfortable apparel I'd worn to bed, but I would have been far more uncomfortable undressing to sleep while with someone I barely knew and another that I sort of hated.

"At least give me some grub before we get movin'. I only had a light lunch before you both ruined my day."

"We ruined your day?"

"And I'm out of food." Sevitus replied, "Couldn't feed you even I wanted to. Which I don't."

"Sevitus-"

"Well, then I need to piss."

"What do you mean 'well'? You sound like you want to piss to spite me for not having food."

"If I wanted to spite you boy, I would have pissed myself and your shitty rucksack, just to make you carry it along the way. Unlike you Imperials, I'm civilized."

"Rave-"

"You would watch your tongue you quim, lest I cut it out for you!"

I clapped my hands and pulsed my aura, "Guys!"

They shut up, both flinching from the sudden burst, power and sound working to disorient them.

This is why I didn't want to mom you two.

To Sevitus I said, "Give me a moment to get ready? Please? I'll let Rave do her business while I'm at it."

Sevitus nodded, "Just be careful then. We can't trust her."

"I will be. For now, just cool off a bit okay? Don't let her get to you.

He sighed but nodded again, going back to packing away the supplies.

Rave opened her mouth.

I held up a hand, "Not now. Please."

She shut it, looking at me reproachfully.

I unfurled the Fragile One around me, body still tense with the expectation of reality shattering. I felt the chill of the wind die down as she expanded, replaced by another, personal chill as I felt her limbs jitter slightly even as they remained in place.

It's the same thing back in Rain's home.

I focused on that connection between my mind and the actions of the forcefield, thinking back to the height of feedback while we were in-sync. Dancing with me against Oberon, becoming a whirlwind to dispel toxic fumes, carrying our teammates to safety, jousting against Skadi with the Gun.

The jittering slowed and then stopped. I turned a flesh hand over and felt eight more palms do the same. Mouths yawned open and closed, heads turned, and the forcefield itself spun slowly at my command.

Back to normal. Or what constituted as the normal for now.

That feeling of disassociation for myself hadn't left. Not entirely.

At least you haven't abandoned me yet.

Fragile hands reached out and find leverage with Rave, pulling her from the sleeping bag as gently as I could. She squirmed a bit more in my grasp, but didn't voice a complaint.

I pointed, "We'll be in that stretch of woods Sevitus. If anything happens, just shout."

He gave me a thumbs up, which was so bizarrely out of place that I had to pause for few seconds to wonder how that became a thing on this world. Rave's cough drew me out of my fugue and I flew us both into the woods. It took a bit to find a spot sufficiently blocked by trees and foliage that I was comfortable dropping her off at.

I was just happy I didn't have to go in the wilderness.

"I need my ankles untied," Rave mumbled.

I gave her a look.

"Tough talk is one thing, but I got some self-respect. I don't want to piss my trousers on accident and have to deal with the fucking jeers that'll get me."

"Okay." I said, "But if you try to run off, I will catch you. One hundred percent guarantee that I'm faster than you."

She rolled her eyes, "I aint gonna run off on ya. I got nowhere to go here and I aint looking to leave my bow behind."

"You really do care about that thing don't you?"

"Look I told ya it's my pa's, that's reason enough alright? Now can you untie my legs so I don't start dripping elven mead down one pant?"

Right. Invisible hands went about untying the hemp knot, and despite a few miss-tugs here and there, I felt she handled it in a timely manner. Once the rope was removed, Rave immediately went to unbuckling her belt along her pants, and turned away partly to give her privacy.

A memory came to mind of the asylum workers undressing me for my baths, or the many times grown men and women had watched me lose control of bowel movements in their company before they had installed the catheters. Even after, the pumps of the device were morbidly loud when they activated, letting everyone know of the time and reason.

I backed away a good fifteen feet, keeping just the bare minimum of her in my peripheral, and hopefully far away enough that the sounds wouldn't reach me too much.

I took a deep breath, trying to force myself into a calm state that I didn't think I could actually reach. It was like shooting for the stars and landing on the moon; the former was unlikely but at least you got to the latter, with the moon representing any progress at all.

Center yourself. Care for yourself. Handle your shit.

Which meant that while she went about her business, I took time to care for myself at a basic and primal level. I loosened the armor slightly, feeling the air hit sweat damped skin that still partially clung to the cloth interior. Water dumped onto a spare rag could be used as a makeshift bath in a pinch, but there was no sense of relief when I applied it to the more exposed parts of the armor, even as the sweat I was drenched in was wiped clean. Only more of that chill that had nothing to do with the cold water and everything to do with how off my body was.

What am I going to do?

Maybe a better question was what could I do?

Options; fly back to the border and investigate that fucking boulder and see if there's a clue for getting back home. Not a solid option if I was being honest, despite the simplicity. Beyond the Master-Stranger aspect that I was still technically following, there was something about the area that had my gut reeling and I couldn't put my finger on why yet. I wasn't entirely comfortable yet with how the boundaries between the two of us had eroded, but talking with Tattletale and the results of following her lead had done nothing but help. In that way, I could and did trust my Fragile One to do her best to help me when she could.

And she wanted me to stay clear of that rock.

I felt hands run through my hair and felt a bit of tension release as they began to work out it's kinks.

Okay then, what's next?

Magic, and connected to that thought, this supposed school of wizardry but definitely not witchcraft. The College of Winterhold. Magic was the X-factor in all of this and there were apparently multiple classifications of it that operated differently than how our power systems did back home. The Voice, blessings of 'gods', and the kind that could be taught in a school that anyone could take if they wanted. The fact that Sevitus and, apparently, many others didn't take those classes could mean that there was a limitation or clause that I wasn't aware of at the moment. I didn't get the feeling that Sevitus had deceived me in any way, but he did leave the impression of being a bit too unconcerned about magic as a whole.

The College was a strong choice. If I wanted to get some clue as to how the powers in this world worked and why they were so different from my own, there could definitely be a chance among scholars and researchers.

There was a similar option in deciding to stick with Sevitus and Invictus, but that had too many problems for me and them. Claudya clearly hated my guts and made it clear she didn't want to see me in her camp any time soon , and I had no idea how readily her soldiers would enforce her retaliation if I tried to convince her to let me stay. That didn't matter so much, compared to what it might mean for Sevitus and his father. Invictus had already suffered enough for helping me and even if I didn't like him all that much, he still didn't deserve what she would no doubt do to him.

The only real issue was that without the two of them, I didn't have much to go on in terms of directions, even with the map on hand. I had a general idea of where Whiterun, Helgen's remains, and the border were in relation to each other, but no way to figure out the time and distance on my own. I'd have to talk to Sevitus before we separated at camp, see if he could mark up the map a bit more or point to someone who could-

A snap to my right and I looked up just in time to see a club of wood twice as thick as my fist strike one of the faces of my forcefield. Wood exploded on impact and the resulting force sent Rave stumbling back, keeping her balance just barely with her newly freed ankles, wincing in pain as the weapon fell from her grasp.

"Ah piss-"

Forcefield now down, I kicked off the tree to supply that extra bit of force to my flight, crossing a five foot gap in a second to deliver a sharp elbow to her ribs. There was a moment of satisfaction in hearing the gasp of air from her and seeing Rave fall back from the blow, despite the jolt of pain that went up my arm, but she was quick to roll with the momentum and attempt to keep her distance.

My forcefield and flight were quicker, and the moment she tried to rise to her feet I was already upon her. With one hand I took a claw to her leather armor and lifted her completely off the ground. She attempted to kick at me, but two extra arms bloomed held them in place.

We were both breathing hard. Her from the retaliation and losing the air in her lungs. Me from the shock of the attack and a simmering anger at being caught off guard. I knew that I was deep in thought, but for her to get so close to me? Or even prior, to get clothed and find a weapon so soon? She had so fucking quiet.

A simmering anger probably wasn't accurate. I was pissed.

I held her there, aura brimming enough to encompass the two of us, my eyes searching for something in her that could explain what had just happened. For her part, her breathing hitched and her eyes became shifty, trying to look at everything barring me.

"Fucking why?!" Because the question had to be asked.

Rave licked her lips nervously and swallowed, "You let your guard down. I had to give it a shot."

"I held back," I said incredulously. "I gave you a second chance and saved you from giant spiders. From being executed even!"

"Ya. Thanks."

"Fuck you." I snarled, incensed.

"Ya, well-"

"No." I interrupted, "You don't get to have the last word here. You asked before if I'm tired of people in charge trying to throw their weight around and yeah, I really am. I've been shot at, threatened, and insulted by almost everyone I've come across here and I honestly feel like banging my head against a wall for a kinder change of pace. But I could handle all of that, all of that posturing and bureaucratic bullshit, because I've dealt with worse. Way, way, way worse than anything these people have done.

"The one thing I don't trust myself to have a handle on? Dealing with people like you, Rave. Rapists, unabashed murderers, their accomplices and people who take pleasure in ruining the lives of innocent people. I have a bad history of breaking people like you Rave. Breaking them so badly that others can only look at me with horror and disgust. Hell, I get disgusted with myself thinking back to those days. So when you pull bullshit like right now or back in the treetop to save your own skin? It gets really fucking hard not to break you, Rave."

I let go of her clothing, but she remained pinned in the air, unable to move. Unable to do much but sweat and look down at me with wide eyes and flaring nostrils.

"I wouldn't have to lift a single finger to do it." I almost whispered. Not to be sinister or threatening, but because I felt drained in seeing her terrified expression, and raising my volume suddenly felt like a monumental effort in willpower. I turned off my aura, seeing her visibly relax, and I turned my back on her.

The calming center I had worked to find by going through my choices had left me, the rage I gave into was fleeting, and now all I was left was sense of emptiness. I fucked up in letting my guard down even slightly around a monster and I had fucked up in letting my anger take the reigns to bring her down. Adding it to my still waking up on this fucking planet, I had fucked up nearly three times in row.

I could have gone on longer down that road, but I just wanted to put distance between myself and the forest by that point, and tearing myself down wouldn't help with that. There was always later, after all.

I flew us out of the forest and found Sevitus standing by, sword in hand, expression concerned. Seeing me, his face softened, which helped and hurt my heart, and he sheathed his blade.

"I heard shouting and rustling in the woods. Are you alright Antares?"

"I'm fine." I said, forcing my voice to a normal volume, "Rave and I just had an argument right now. Nothing serious."

Rave coughed behind me.

Sevitus frowned, "You speak truly? If she did anything to you, I'll-"

"Sevitus." I patted his shoulder, "It's fine. Really. Right now I just want to get back on the road and talk about my options."

He looked between the two of us, frown so deep that I wondered if he had genes from Invictus after all. In the end though, he nodded and mounted Daisy. He cast one last glance back to me before he had her take off and I was quick to pace myself to her side.

If Rave gave a surprised grunt at my sudden speed, then I didn't hear it.

⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙⊙​

We traveled in silence, heavy and uncomfortable, but thankfully not too long as we passed the Helgen checkpoint. The light of morning was finally finding some strength as the hours ticked by, some rays of light even dipping through the clouds and the canopy's of trees.

I felt a bit disappointed that I couldn't feel the warmth in those brief moments of sunlight breaching onto this untamed road, but there was a comfort in knowing that we would eventually be out of the shadow of this ash.

"Antares!" Sevitus called out, "I see Father's men!"

I did too. Two men in the Imperial armor I'd come to wear myself stood along the road, just out of sight of the camp as the trail moved around some foliage and likely away from Claudya's as well. It was a reasonable enough precaution. I wasn't sure I was in the mood to handle Claudya myself either.

We slowed our descent as the soldiers noticed out presence, hands going to the bows across their backs briefly, but not actually drawing their weapons.

"Hail, Archaveus!" Sevitus said, apparently recognizing one of them.

The man closest to us relaxed, lowering his hand as we stopped before us.

"Sevitus. Surprisingly punctual for once. It must be a miracle of Kyne."

Archaveus turned my way, "Lady Antares. It is good to see you as well."

I blinked, feeling off-kilter from the remark, "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"The appreciation is all mine." He thumped his fist to his chest, "My brother was one of the men whom you took to Whiterun for healing. I had prepared myself to pray to the Gods for his soul and dreading to write the letters back home to his wife. Now he laughs and fills his belly with mead like the fool he is. He owes you his life and I owe you my thanks."

I felt a tension in my throat as his sincerity filled every word he spoke. My mind was still going a mile a minute thinking about home, my emotions still charged from Rave's betrayal, and the chill in my meat body still permeating.

When was the last time anyone told me half as sincere? It couldn't have been that long has it?

Feels like forever ago.

I brushed my hand through a lock of hair that the Fragile One hadn't touched, "Thank you Archaveus. That really means a lot to me."

He thumped his chest again, "That being said..."

Archaveus glanced backwards, toward where the camp was located.

"I won't be returning to the camp." I said, "I know I'm not exactly on her good list right now."

"Very few ever are," muttered the soldier behind him.

Sevitus laughed

I tilted my head back, "Do you have a tent for prisoners?"

Archaveus raised an eyebrow, "For that Bandit? No. Every tent is being used to house our supplies and soldiers resting quarters. Best she be put down, spare the effort."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Rave turn her head my way. It was a struggle to not lash out with my aura or use my forcefield to wrench her head back. The former would probably wash over the soldiers as well, who hadn't done anything wrong, and the latter was just... too reminiscent of my mom.

I kept my cool as I asked, "Do you think you could makeshift a sort of prison? Or just tie her to a post? As a favor maybe?"

"Hmm." He rubbed his chin, "I suppose we could do with a makeshift pillory. Might even work as motivation for the troops and stress relief."

"Fuck yer pillory!" Rave shouted.

"She doesn't seem to like it." I noted. "What is it?"

"Some call them stockades," Sevitus answered, "Head and wrists bound in wooden blocks and chain."

"Ah." I felt a smile cross my face, "I'm familiar with those. So long as she's treated humanely, I have no issues.."

Archaveus shrugged, "As humanely as any other Bandit spared the blade in return for rotten tomatoes I suppose. I can't guarantee she won't once we get moving, but if she's bound to a pillory then she just might be."

I turned to Rave, saw her head shake, and turned back to Archaveus.

I put in extra false cheer as I said, "I think I can live with that."

"Fuck you, you magic shitting bitch! I should have ripped your throat out with my teeth and-"

I semi-dropped and mostly shoved her forward with my forcefield, forcing her to cut off the rant and focus more on hopping to stay upright. I felt a little bad about that, but the soldier next to Archaveus caught her before she could fall.

I sighed, feeling a weight be lifted off my back, "She's all yours."

Rave scowled at me, but remained silent as the guards pulled out actual iron cuffs to replace the rope.

"We'll tell the Captain that we caught her skulking around the camp and captured her. Gag her after Fobios, no need to let her voice her own story for now."

I turned to Sevitus, "Her bow please?"

He nodded, grabbing it from the saddle and tossing it my way. It froze in the air briefly before I rotated my forcefield, bringing the bow to Archaveus.

"Take care of this please. It's her fathers and it means a lot to her. I'm not asking for special treatment but..."

Archaveus nodded and grasped the weapon. He seemed more amused at the bow rather than the invisible limb holding it, "Even monsters may love at least one person in their lives I suppose. I will make sure that it is kept out of harms way for now."

Behind him, Rave glanced at me before looking to the ground.

Yeah. I don't know if any of this will ever get through your fucking head. I hope it does because I want to believe that there can only be one person I've met that can be so fucking ignorant.

Sevitus dismounted, walking next to me, eyes still on Rave.

"Good riddance I would say," he spoke. He paused and turned to me, "Not to you of course! I'll miss you dearly Antares. Not, uh, not in a way that would be uncomfortable-"

To my front, Archaveus sighed deeply.

"-Just that it's been an exciting journey for the both of us. Or, uh, it was certainly one for me and I hope for you-"

"Sevitus." He stopped and I smiled slightly, "I'll miss you too. If you wanna help make some notes on my map, I'd really appreciate it."

He smiled back, full of youth, and I wished I had time to coach him in heroics. It made me sort of sad to see someone who could be so kind in a group that would likely hammer in a militaristic mindset.

I hope I can leave some bits of goodwill and guidance for you.

Rapid footsteps caught everyone's attention. Several hands going for weapons while I floated higher, hoping to get a better look of the approaching person or group.

Another soldier broke around the trail, panting hard as he ran, and his eyes widened upon seeing us. Despite his apparent exhaustion, he immediately picked up his pace to reach Archaveus.

"It's an emergency sir!" He cried out, "The Captain is having us moving out, double-time! Direct orders from General Tulius's messenger and the report says-

The exhausted man did a double take at my appearance, "Lady Antares? I thought you had left long ago?"

"Out with it soldier!" Archaveus scolded before I could answer, not that I knew what I would say in the first place.

The soldier swallowed, eyes wide, "They've heard reports form folk fleeing near Whiterun. A dragon has attacked!"

 

[Ridtom]

Interlude: The Archer

⊙​

The pounding of the door woke Asgrim from his slumber. He rose slightly from his bed, feeling his wife's arm draped along his chest serve as mild resistance to the action, and had to smile as he felt her fingers squeeze his night-shirt.

"Don't." Carlotta mumbled drowsily, "Stay in bed with me."

"Might be work." He murmured, gently removing her hand from his chest. He gave her small fingers a kiss.

She sighed tiredly, "You're off today. Tell them to go find man who doesn't want to keep his wife company in bed."

"No guard is truly off-duty dear."

"They are when the wife wants demands it."

Asgrim chuckled and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

More pounding at the door, quick but strong hits.

"Definitely work," he grumbled. Still, he was already removing the covers, careful to not budge his wife too much as he awkwardly twisted to the side of the bed.

Easy does it.

He felt a pinch up his left side as he stood and took a moment to center himself. Back when he had first returned to Whiterun, he had tried to push through the pain and weakness with pure grit, having assumed that his long trek back to civilization with Jeram had proven he could tough out anything. It was a folly. His hard-headedness had only exacerbated the damage done to his knee, and by the time he had acquiesced to his now-wife's demands, Danica had declared the injury to be outside of her power.

He still paid the occasional visit once a month, but her studies had not proven fruitful over the years.

Carlotta had been distraught for quite some time and even now he would sometimes catch her watching his pace, a searching look on her face and a quick nervous smile when she saw she had been caught. He wondered often, late in the nights or when he got a bit too full of mead, if she felt as though he only came back to her because of the injury. Asgrim himself was unsure if it was the injury or the refractions of the damned that did it, but he never regretted it. He married a woman who was probably too good for him, he made a family that loved and respected him, and he found a natural sense of belonging with the Whiterun guards.

His life was good.

Another thud against wood that resonated through his home.

Mostly good. Could do without the knocking.

"Hold your fists to yourselves!" He called out, taking measured limps out of his room. "You'll wake the dead at this rate, and I got no time to deal with them at this hour."

It was a blessed silent few seconds as he crossed the space from bedroom to door, yawning as he went. He swung the door open and wasn't surprised to see the Whiterun helmet in front of him. "Birger? What brings you here at this hour of the morn? Has there been an accident?"

The guard shook his head, "All hands to the border wall Asgrim. We've gotten word of a Dragon attacking the Western Watchtower."

Asgrim felt his blood run cold, "The mage was right then? A dragon destroyed Helgen?"

"I don't know about Helgen nor that damned mage of what's true or not, but we had a guard from the outpost make an escape and regale the Jarl himself with what he saw. Scouts have confirmed seeing plumes of orange light in the distance. Irileth and her elite guard have gone to investigate, so it's every soldier armed and ready until she returns."

Asgrim nodded, feeling the weight of the words settle in his heart. Dragons have returned.

"I'll be there soon then." He murmured, "Let me give my goodbyes to my family."

"We're having guard families move to Dragonsreach for the time being," the soldier said, his tone empathetic. "Just a precaution. If Irileth doesn't return by the hour, then we begin mass evacuations to the Cloud District."

Asgrim shuddered, "Gods preserve us."

"Preserve us indeed," the guard intoned and turned away, trotting off to what other house held a sleeping guard.

He closed the door and stood there for a moment, already going over what he had heard and wishing it had been a dream.

Mabye I'm still at that Tower, he thought. Maddened.

This was not the first time he considered that reality.

"Father?" A tiny head peaked out behind a corner wall, eyes wide and voice hushed.

He forced himself to smile, "Come here Mila."

She did, rushing to hug her father's good leg and burying her face against it. Her hair was mussed from sleep, flattened on one side and curling wildly like tall grass on the other. The sight brought a real smile to his face and he patted down the dramatic hair style with his palm.

"Sorry, my dear. Your papa didn't mean to wake you."

She looked up to him, young eyes with startling curiosity and innocence, "What did the man want, Father?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Carlotta standing in the hallway, arms crossed and face full of concern. Mila was her mother's daughter and they could both sniff out a lie no matter how harmless of intention. To placate them would only see them more frustrated and afraid, and he'd rather have them know the truth rather than distrust him in any way.

"That was my friend on the guard, Birger, dear. You've met him before a few times. He tells us of... of a dragon near our city."

Carlotta brought a hand to her mouth, eyes wide with horror.

"Wooow," Mila said, eyes wide with wonder. "A real dragon? Lars told me that he heard his dad talking about the flying mage, and he said he heard his dad hear the mage mention a dragon all the way in Helgen! I didn't believe him because Lars is always reading books and you know how that makes a person's brain go loopy sometimes, but he was telling the truth! Is it the same dragon? Are you going to fight the dragon Father? Are dragons-"

"Mila." Carlotta interrupted, "Go to your room, get dressed and grab some sheets and whatever valuables you can hold with two hands."

"Wha- why, Mother?"

"Because we're leaving." She turned to Asgrim, slightly unsure. "We are leaving, right?"

He nodded, "I would like that, yes. Birger says families can stay in Dragonsreach for the time being. I wouldn't fret so much, Irileth is on the hunt, and she's the most dangerous woman in all of Whiterun. It'll be a quick trip and quiet stay."

"Like a sleepover," Mila gasped. "Will Lars be there?"

"Possibly," he said. Asgrim wasn't sure, if he was being honest with himself. The issues with the Battle-Borns and Gray-Manes had left a divide in Whiterun, and as a result, both families had lost standing in the eyes of it's citizens. He could imagine them fighting for the city in case of invasion, but to volunteer to work together? He had his doubts.

"Mila, go do what I said. Your father has to get ready too."

Mila gave his leg one last squeeze before running off to her room.

Asgrim went to his wife and she folded into his embrace. He cherished the feeling of her cheek on his chest, the pace of her breathing along his arms, the warmth the two of them shared.

"Don't be stupid out there," she whispered. She looked up at him, a beautiful face lined with worry, "Don't leave me again."

"Never," he said and meant it. He kissed her, deeply, and she returned it with enthusiasm. Too soon, far too soon for his liking, she broke it off and turned to go get ready, not willing to let him see her face right now. He didn't begrudge her for it. She had her own pride after all, and he loved her because of it.

He would keep her safe.

He followed her into the room, still minding her, and unlocked the chest at the foot of the bed. Whiterun armor, clean and polished, greeted him on sight.

I will keep you all safe, he thought as he reached for the armor. No one is dying on my watch. Let alone me. I will never break that promise to you, my love.

Asgrim felt the ghost of the Archer he once was as he grasped his bow, before smothering it with scaled metal adorned with the city's colored cloth. He couldn't smother the fear of the potential threat, but fear was an old friend in many ways.

This is my life now. Time to earn it.

⊙​

Time had passed and that fear he had known had grown into paranoia.

Where are you Irileth?

It had been an hour since Asgrim had joined the post-guard, donning his armor and saying one last goodbye to his loving wife and child. His knee twinged from when he bent down to hug Mila, but it was a worthy pain. Something that made his resolution stronger, not weaker. Carlotta couldn't kiss him with the helmet on, so she copied him that morning, kissing his knuckles and reminding him to stay alive.

When he had watched them head to the Cloud District, it was with a heavy heart.

When he found a roost along the border wall to patrol, it was with pride for his city and his family.

The time for a heavy heart had passed. The time for pride had gone. There was only his old friend, fear.

And fear had grown in strength.

"Irileth's never been gone from Whiterun for this long," the guard next to him spoke. "Not once since I've become a guard have I ever seen her leave the city this long. I'd bet my twenty years of pay on it."

The guard - Elwin - paced back in forth, short scurried steps due to the size allocated to their patrol along the wall. They made Asgrim nervous, more nervous if he was being honest with himself, and he had to fight to keep himself from holding the old-timer in place. He couldn't allow the paranoia to get to him too.

Instead, he forced some disbelief in his voice, "I'm sure she's been gone on longer, Elwin. Missions that the Jarl would only trust to her to see to the end, way above the pay-grade of us poor sods."

Elwin shook his head. "Twenty years!" he emphasized with a slap to his own armor. "Twenty years on the job and I have never seen her leave this city for as long as she has now."

"Come now Elwin. It's barely been an hour past."

"Exactly my point, boy." Elwin give Asgrim a sharp look, "I don't quake in my boots for no reason. Irileth was a monster during the war from the stories I've heard, an blade on the battlefield that killed a dozen for every single swing, yet this Dragon has her take so long that we are going to have to evacuate residents soon enough? It's a bad omen boy. I feel it in my bones and these bones have kept me going for twenty good years. I expect to live twice that if I listen to them."

"You're bones need to have more faith in our city's defend-" Asgrim paused. Movement in the distance had caught his eye.

A bird? The morning sun was struggling to breach the clouds and residual smoke from where they drifted from Helgen, but his eyes had always been good. Something was soaring through the sky.

"What is it?" Elwin stood closer, turning to look to where Asgrim was peering. "What do you see? Is it Irileth?"

"No, not Irileth… it looks like a bird."

"At this distance? You have the eyes of a Khajit or something?"

No, but if he were here now, I could really have used his eyes.

The shadowy figure drew closer and in doing so, caught the mornings first bits of light. It was moving fast, far faster than he'd ever seen a horse gallop. It was... It was...

Asgrim's eyes widened.

"Dragon." He said, unbelieving. He turned to the stunned guard at his side and said louder, "Dragon!"

Elwin fumbled for the horn at his side while Asgrim turned back to the clearing. He couldn't believe it. He would not believe it. A dragon wasn't going to attack Whiterun, his home, not now of all times in millennia. It was impossible. It had to be impossible.

As impossible as the Tower that robbed me of dreams.

Elwin blew the horn and Asgrim hide to bite back a shout of surprise. As the horn tapered off, more horns took up the call, with sentries all along Whiterun's walls pointed and shouted. The cries of 'Dragon' began to echo along the border, and Asgrim could see more than a few civilians pause in shock at the sudden clamor and at the word being thrown around.

"Get to Dragonsreach!" Asgrim shouted to those closest, "Warn others! A Dragon is making it's way to Whiterun! Run! To Dragonsreach!"

"No!"

Asgrim turned, shocked, "Why not-"

A firm hand pressed against his chest. Asgrim had a moment to realize it was Elwin shoving him, full force, before he found himself tumbling off the platform of the tower. The force of the landing knocked the wind out of his lungs and send knives of pain spearing through his left leg. He worried that he might have cracked his bow and sword.

He glared up at the older guard, only to see him stare down at him sadly, a golden glow of light reflecting off his helmet.

The realization hit him too late.

No.

If Elwin had a last parting message, it was washed away by torrent of fire that didn't so much as burn through the wall, but punched through the cracks like a dam shattering on impact with a flood of water. His body was engulfed in hues of orange and yellows, only a vague outline of black flung into the air being his best guess as to where the corpse would eventually land. Even from where Asgrim lay, the heat from the blast was almost impossible to endure, the flames seemingly burning away the air much as they did stone, armor, and flesh.

Don't let his sacrifice be in vain you fool! Persist!

Asgrim thrust the shield along his forearm in front of him, simultaneously using the momentum to push himself back against the wedge of wall and earth. The relief and protection they provided was negligible at best, but the action served to get his mind moving and spirit thrumming as he held out against the oppressive heat. It felt like hours. Hours of feeling the air and water sucked from his body, the clothing he wore all too suffocating in the face of this onslaught, but he knew it had only been seconds.

This dark surety reminded him of the Tower and it's ever growing space. Asgrim grit his teeth and focused on the heat, for the threat of death from exposure was far more appealing than thinking back to that place of madness.

As if hearing this thought, the onslaught stopped, and a great shadow engulfed the world. The creature was titanic, easily larger than a mammoth or giant, the scales of it's body reflecting what little of light from the morning like dull mirrors. The resulting effect created a form duality as it was nearly divided by it's shadowed underbelly, it's taloned feet merely thirty feet above Asgrim.

The Dragon was objectively beautiful, it's form lithe and full of power as it soared above and past him, a being Asgrim had never dreamed of seeing till this day, The force of it's flight was enough to lift Asgrim off the ground and rock back agains the wall, the leathery wings dipping low and high with sheer power to propel it's massive form through the air. A hearty roar shook Asgrim's bones as the Dragon unleashed another stream of fire, the attack scouring through several homes as it glided on by till it was out his view.

It was only when the Dragon had stopped it's roar that Asgrim realized he had been screaming. He forced himself to stop, feeling the air in his throat squeeze shut to silence himself, the act bringing spots to his eyes like refractions in a diamond. A shuddering breath left him, followed by intense breathing as he found the cool air returning to him. The dancing spots in his vision receded and he found the strength to stand.

Before him, pillars of smoke and fire rose to the sky from the city before him, a deep black trail of scorched earth and the burning homes of his neighbors marking the path of destruction the monster had taken.

Run away. Keep that promise to her. To them.

He would have. He almost did. To run away from the horror in front of him, away from the charred corpse of Elwin, and to spend his final days with Carlotta in one arm and Mila in the other. He deserved that, didn't he? He trekked miles through snowy tundra with an arrow in knee, half of his companions dead, because he saw a life with a family who would love him unconditionally. He didn't deserve to fry under the uncaring gaze of a creature millennium old.

But for as much as he could silence his own screams, there was nothing to stop the screams of those further in the city. Men, women, children, his own fellow guards most likely, all of their voices reached out through the city with such volume that not even the Dragon's roars could drown them out. Cries for help, cries for battle, crying out simply for the sake of expressing terror beyond all comprehension.

If he did not answer those screams, those cries for help... who would? If he did not, would he even be able to look his own love in their eyes without any shame?

Fight or flight, but I can't stand still.

He took one step, feeling that pain in his knee, and then another. Then another. And another.

Step by step, until he was stumbling through a living hell of flames on either side, bodies still burning in the streets where they failed avoid the stream of heat or had tried to escape their burning homes, only to die from their wounds.

A child screamed along the side of the cobblestone road, tears streaming down a face that looked as though it had become pink and black dough down one side, the fabric of his shirt charred to his chest. A woman sprinted full speed out from behind a burning home and scooped up the child with a grace and ease that Asgrim envied, her dress doing little to slow her pace as she ducked through more houses. Her direction was most likely Dragonsreach or to the healer's temple.

The Dragon was circling the air now, bouts of flame jetting forth at targets Asgrim couldn't see. His heart stopped as he saw a flick of that flaming stream reach out to the Dragonsreach, only for glowing runes to come to life, blue script that repelled the flames back with a heavy wind.

He soldiered on, the deep fear beginning to mingle with a disbelieving rage. That had been where Carlotta and Mila sheltered, two among many other families, and this Dragon had dared bare a fang or flame in their direction?

Never, his horrified but furious mind decreed. I would sooner gouge out it's eyes with my bare hands than let that happen.

He soldiered on, rage and fear pushing his powerful knees every step of the way, trampling the pain from his old wound like weeds under boot. The Dragon had circled the city ahead twice more, letting out brief bursts of flame before landing between homes further ahead. He strode forth, taking in the bodies, the fleeing city-folk who darted out of their hiding places when they felt the coast was clear, many of them still in sleep-wear and unprepared for an attack so early in the morning.

He passed a corner and found the site of the battle.

The Dragon prowled along the ground on all fours like a saber-cat, it's spine trailing spikes of bone and scales, it's tail ending a dagger-like shape of leather. The horns adorned it's skull like a crown, blending with it's scales naturally, and yellow eyes scanned it's opponents with a cruel intelligence. Ten guards, five of the Companions, and at least an equal number of civilian men and women with weapons surrounded that monster.

Was it a trick of the eye to think that the jaw of the reptile resembled a leering smile?

One of the guards sprinting forth with a mighty battle-cry, his body enveloped in the power of Oakflesh, a sure sign he was one of Irileth's elites. The Dragon matched the cry with a roar of bloodlust and what happened next was so quick, Asgrim could almost not believe his eyes. The Dragon's head and neck lurched out with a sudden speed that belied it's massive size, the enormous jaws of the creature clamping down on the guard in seconds. The serpent shook it's head with devastating force, the exposed lower half of his legs flailing back and forth like a rag swatting at flies, a ferocity that would have killed any normal man that somehow survive the first bite.

On a final shake, the Dragon released his catch and Asgrim only had seconds to dive down before the guards glowing body flew past him, the man colliding with a horse cart like a projectile from a catapult. His spell winked out of existence and he let loose a low moan.

The Dragon roared and was met with a volley of arrows from the guards around him, with several more Companions running to the creature with Skyforge weaponry. Asgrim struggled to his feet, the pain in his knee having found a new hold over him from the fall, and limped over to the elite guard. There were several more cries and Asgrim could see two of the Companions trying to hack away at the Dragon's wings, only for the long limbs to extend is a brief but powerful push, the force of which knocked the duo off their feet and rolling away.

Another guard snuck in from behind, firing arrows at it's exposed underbelly, uncaring that only one in three were getting past the scales, let along hurting the beast. Once more with that shocking speed, the Dragon spun in place, tail lashing out like a whip the size of a horse. Asgrim saw only a splash of red from the guard before the tail carried on through a nearby burning home, shattering wooden pillars and walls like straw.

The Dragon roared and everyone trembled.

Asgrim reached the guard, carefully pulling out pieces of wood so as to get a better view of his brother in arms. He was still moaning, arms laying limply at his side, a hole in his gut that Asgrim could fit his fist entirely and likely not touch any side. He ripped out the sash of his armor, praying to every god he knew as he stuffed the cloth into the wound. Instantly the gold cloth became stained with red and the guard gasped in pain.

Gasping is good. Means you're still alive. Let's keep you that way.

One of the civilians, a man whom Asgrim likely met and talked with as an upstanding member of the community, dropped his sword and fled. Asgrim wanted to feel disgust at the man not even giving a glance to the dead and dying as he ran past, but there nothing he could hold against. Not when he had nearly done the same thing himself.

The remaining guards and fighters were scrambling now, working together as best they could to distract and disorient the beast, lest they lose another. A Companion woman with two swords sprinted up to the snout of the Dragon as it approached an archer, dual blades crisscrossing in beautiful movements as they were swung, the steel creating sparks as they raked it's scaled maw. The Dragon shrunk back, surprised by the move and blow, giving more of the guards time to pepper it with arrows and allow the woman to fall back behind burning cover.

"I hear my mother calling..." the guard murmured, eyes rolling in his sockets. His pupils were wider than they should have been.

"You hear nothing friend." Asgrim huffed out a breath, pulling off his bow. "Your ancestors want you to stick around just a bit longer."

"I feel.... losing my... feeling."

Asgrim pressed down on the wound with a free hand, earning another gasp from the man.

"You feel that?!" At the guard's nod, Asgrim shouted, "Then you aren't lost yet! Just focus on keeping your blood in you."

The tactics were working. The Dragon was getting harassed at range and when they felt confident, one or two warriors would close in to strike at the damned monstrosity's skull, leaving marks and damage by focusing on single location. It was tough, it was brutal, it was a grind on mind and soul, but they were making progress.

The Dragon roared as a man smashed their warhammer across the worn spot, sending scales flying and briefly stunning the lizard. By the time the Dragon retaliated with a bite, more arrows stabbed it's snout and another guard stabbed at it's neck, trying to wedge the tip of the blade under the natural armor. The guard abandoned the weapon as the Dragon swung it's powerful neck his way, rolling to reduce his profile from the snapping fangs.

We have you figured out, Asgrim thought, putting an arrow to the bow string. You're just an animal like any other.

The Dragon glared at the half circle of makeshift defenders, a low rumble building in it's throat, the scales along it's spine and neck beginning to hackle. It took only a second for Asgrim to realize what was happening, but a second was too late to shout a warning. A deafening roar bellowed out from it's might throat and with it came a literal wave of frost that chilled the air itself. Even from nearly fifty feet away, Asgrim felt as though he had caught the harsh wind of the tundra, despite being surrounded by buildings engulfed in hellish fire.

For those defenders, the experience was terminal.

The sight of the battlefield as the frost receded made his blood run cold. Six of the guards were swallowed up by the frosted air, their cries buried under the crashing of ice, and now six statues stood in their place with weapons still held high. One of the bigger Companions had thrown himself atop the smaller woman warrior, his body taking the brunt of the blast. It hadn't worked entirely, the woman's hair covered in snow and one sword arm encased in ice. The rest of the Companions stood motionless, bodies rooted to the ground by crusts of ice. The remaining civilians took one look at the corpses and fled, scattering in all directions.

The Dragon huffed, steam puffing from it's snout, and brought it's tail down with a massive thud. The impact lifted Asgrim inches off the ground, jostled the wounded guard, and sent the ice statues tumbling down. Some of the ice was so thick that legs snapped off partway up their shins from the blow and all who fell shattered into pieces no bigger than Asgrim's own helmet. The female Companion tried to hold onto her dead brother-in-arms, but her frozen arm shattered as it faced his weight.

The body broke like the rest and the Companion screamed, pressing the pink and white stump to her gut as she dropped to her knees in agony.

The Dragon tilted it's head in curiousity, taking slow and languid steps towards the woman. She was insensate, unable to bring herself into focus as the predator approached with leisure.

There was no time to think, no time to consider the consequences, and no time to let fear have a hold on him any longer. It was the face of a father that came to mind as he strung the bow, the man his daughter would ask to scare away monsters, the man his wife would hold when she had nightmares of his duty. It was the Archer's ghost who aimed the bow in his heart.

It was Asgrim who let loose the arrow.

The Dragon cried out as iron penetrated the soft tissue surrounding it's hateful yellow eyes, shaking it's head violently in an attempt to remove the appendage. Asgrim knocked more arrows, launching three more in just as many seconds, the metal heads cutting through the wind with ease. No luck this time, the movements of the creature were too erratic, with only one arrow doing damage by cutting a bit of the softer snout. The Dragon brought a heavy claw to it's eye, scraping off scales and plucking the arrow from it's roost.

It shook it's head once more and turned it's attention to Asgrim, nostrils flaring.

Ah, he realized with clarity. I'm going to die.

"I'm sorry," he said, knocking another arrow anyways. "I'm afraid we might both meet our ancestors this morn."

The guard let out a pained sigh, "It sounded.... sounded hurt."

The Dragon began to flap it's wings, the wind buffeting Asgrim with that overbearing force. Asgrim let loose the arrow, but the force of the winds simply sent it tumbling away.

"I shot it's eye!" He shouted madly, "Might have blinded it a bit!"

Silence. The Dragon took flight now, raising itself higher and higher, to the point that it would be above any houses that were still standing. It didn't fly away nor circle the area. The monster hovered in the air, kept aloft with its unbelievable power, staring down at the man who dared oppose it.

Asgrim feared he would die alone when he heard a whispered, "Good."

He smiled, but there was no joy there. Not when he had broken a promise.

The Dragon opened it's mouth and the blinding flames of Oblivion poured forth to wipe him from existence.

He closed his eyes.

⊙​

Oblivion never came, though that excruciating heat surrounded him on every side once more and his ears were nearly deafened by the roar of fire that flowed around him.

Asgrim opened his eyes. A woman was facing the flames head on, her back to him, flying over a foot above him and the guard. She stood poised, chin held high and standing tall, seemingly uncaring of the searing flame and heat that she was battling. He could feel a strong vortex of wind surrounding her, buffeting the dry air and fire away from the pair like a shield, licks of fire trying to wrap around her only to slip off and away.

Her golden hair and fair skin made him think Nord, but the armor she wore was of Imperial style.

An Imperial Battlemage? In Whiterun?

It took him long seconds to connect the memory. The Mage.

"Antares," he whispered in shock.

The flames died out and with it the vortex that she produced as a defense. He felt sweat and soot roll down his skin just from second hand exposure, yet she looked nearly pristine, only a bead of sweat for her troubles.

The Dragon remained hovering observing the new arrival, and despite it's animalistic appearance, it looked as though it was as confused as he was.

Antares glanced back at Asgrim, "How hurt is he?"

Asgrim blinked.

"The man!" She barked out, "How hurt?!"

The question and order brought his senses back into focus, "He's bleeding to death. A hole in his gut."

"Can you heal him?"

"No. And I'm not strong enough to carry him on my own like this."

She glanced back at the Dragon, frowning. "And the... the fucking Dragon's not going to let me take you to safety I bet."

Asgrim watched as the Dragon began to rise even higher, putting more distance between it and Antares. "No. No, I... I can't say it would. It's more intelligent than it looks."

She simply nodded, reaching into a satchel at her side and pulling out a red vial. The mage never took her eyes off the of the still ascending Dragon as she lowered herself to his level.

Asgrim took the bottle as she spoke, "It's a health potion from Danica. I don't know if it would heal that serious an injury, but it couldn't hurt. Once he drinks it you two are going to have to make a run for safety. You've done a good job here, let me handle this."

"It uses Fire and Frost magic, stronger than I've ever seen in my life. You'll need help to fight that monster."

Antares put a hand on his shoulder, this time meeting his eyes briefly. When she spoke, she spoke with a confidence he couldn't ignore. "I know my monsters. Save your friend and fall back to the castle. I've sent a few people that way who needed help already-"

A roar pierced the air above them and Asgrim looked up in fright. The Dragon was hundreds of feet above them now, no longer hovering but now spearing up through the sky, rolling in a tight spin as it reoriented itself to face the earth below.

"It's diving!"

"Go!" Antares shouted and flew forth at a speed that left him dumbfounded, a blond and red blur in his vision.

If the Dragon was shocked at being charged by another flyer, it didn't show it this time, keeping up a steady roar as it dove faster and faster towards Antares. It's massive wings added more power to the attack, a boost in speed that supported it's inertia and natural gravity. Asgrim watched as Antares flew straight for the beast, unflinching as she faced a jaw that could cover a mammoth's skull whole, it's fangs the size of her own forearm.

Asgrim didn't see her summon any defenses or spells. His heart sank.

The distance between them closed. Fifty feet. Fourty. Thirty. Twenty. Ten-

The Dragon let loose another triumphant roar.

Antares raised one arm and swiped out in a lazy backhand that wasn't anywhere near the Dragon. Which made it all the more surprising when the Dragon's head snapped violented to the right, dozens of scales launching off of it's maw like a rain of arrows, and blood to spill out from a deep cut to it's lip. The force of the unseen blow was powerful enough the alter the Dragon's entire trajectory, sending it into a tumble as it fell through the sky.

Antares had to bob and weave around a few limbs as she passed by the creature, but in the end she remained unharmed, watching from above as the bleeding monster crashed into a house opposite of Asgrim's street. Where the impact of it's tail strike had slightly lifted him off the ground, the crash as it's gigantic body plummeted through the house's remains felt like it would crack the open the Earth itself and swallow him whole.

Asgrim could only look on in shock at the display of power he had just witnessed.

A moan from behind shook him from his stupor and turn back to his fellow guardsman, removing the sash from his wound. The man was no longer lucid now, but he didn't need to be lucid to live. Asgrim's hands shook as he pried open the bottle and poured the contents into the guard's mouth. Instantly his figure was wrapped in light, the blood flaking off as skin and muscle reformed themselves with the power of magic. The guard opened his eyes as the wound turned from a gaping hole into purple bruise.

"Can you hear me?" Asgrim shouted.

He groaned, "Too clearly. The ringing in my head is killing me."

The sound of shuffling wood made Asgrim's heart skip a beat. A glance showed a leather wing stretch out and shove aside a wooden pillar, a hint of a horned head shaking itself, likely dealing with it's own ringing.

"Better the ringing than the Dragon across the way," Asgrim said. He grabbed the guard by his uniform, "Stand with me brother, lest we both die togther on this road!"

It took some doing, but the guard managed to force himself to his feet, leaning heavily on Asgrim's shoulder. He could feel his knee cry out in agony, but he paid the damn thing no mind.

The guard looked up, "Oh Kyne have mercy."

The Dragon had risen, still shaking it's head slightly, but it's murderous gaze latched onto the pair. A low rumble began to grow in it's throat-

Terror. Pure, unadulterated and unhinged terror. It slammed into Asgrim like a mammoth's trunk and sent his mind into a daze, building on the exhaustion and fear that he had experienced throughout this morning. The elite guard beside him was breathing too fast and too shallow, his skin turning a pasty white.

And the Dragon roared in retaliation, turning to the sky as it bristled from an alien sensation, just in time for Antares to reintroduce her boots to the side of the lizard's head. The impact was as deafening as it was satisfying, the blow sending the Dragon rolling down the road. It was quicker to recover this time however, pushing itself back onto it's four claws and stabilizing it's momentum with it's powerful tail. It roared with a fury that only the most intelligent of creatures were capable of, blood dripping onto the ground beneath it.

The feeling of terror vanished and Asgrim felt himself release a breath he didn't know he had been holding back.

Antares yelled out, "Run! Castle! Safety! Now!" And then she was gone, flying down the road toward a Dragon without a moment to spare.

Let's not make it a third time.

"Work with me, brother." Asgrim panted, "I've got a weak leg here."

"I've got a weak everything," the guard retorted. "But I'll try."

They shuffled past burning houses and filled alleys, taking care to make sure they could hide themselves under cover should the Dragon spot them. Asgrim could hear the roars of battle going on behind him, with pillars of fire and frost blasting through the air as the Dragon raged on, Antares somehow physically contending with the creature with ease. More than once the ground shook with impacts that nearly knocked them off their feet and they couldn't reliably say it was due to close proximity or sheer power.

Minutes passed as they finally reached the steps to the Garden plaza, the ancient Gildergreen burning from a previous onslaught, it's thin bark offering little protection. The statue of Talos was scorched by the heat, but seemed otherwise undamaged, fittingly enough in Asgrim's opinion.

The guard spoke quietly, "I've gone mad brother."

Asgrim turned to look.

Whole homes had been turned into frozen monuments or burned to the ground the battle, steam and smoke warring with each other in mixing temperatures. The Dragon was ascending, twin pillars of fire and frost blasting from it's jaws as it rose higher and higher into the sky. It chased a figure so small that Asgrim doubted the other guard could make out anything other than a general impression.

But Asgrim saw everything with the Archer's eyes.

Antares soared up into the sky with inhuman grace as she danced around the elemental pillars, glittering swords spinning around her like autumn leaves in the wind, flying faster than the Dragon could hope to keep up. He saw her twist out of the way as the pillars separated and converged on her location, deftly avoiding their collision and continuing her ascent. Her hand swung down and all half dozen blades were loosed onto the creature below her. Asgrim's eyes couldn't make out the damage done in great detail, but he saw every blade's glimmer vanish as they penetrated the Dragon's hide and a noticeable dip in its ascension.

The twin streams had stopped, but the Dragon roared on, continuing to climb up after Antares as she disappeared into the low cloud cover. The Dragon followed suit and soon the morning sky was lit up in waves of orange and yellow.

The two stood there for some time, watching the colors brighten and diminish, a roar echo through the sky.

Even as soldiers poured in from the border walls and from Dragonsreach, Asgrim couldn't tear his eyes away from the sky. He would not have been surprised to know that every other soldier was doing the same.

A stream of fire speared through the clouds like a blade through flesh, only to cut off as suddenly as it appeared. A screech echoed out of the clouds and with it came the Dragon, it's mass so great that it's body dragged bits of the cloud down along it's wings and tail. It was an unnatural fall, it's back to the ground and head moving slowly as if in shock.

Antares was soon to follow, still faster than the Dragon even in descent, and collided with it's bared chest. A fountain of blood spouted out from the impact and the Dragon let loose another piercing screech of pain, it's descent increasing from the extra push.

It tried in vain to slow itself, wings spreading out as best they could, but Asgrim could now see where damage had been done to the leather flaps, stripping whole sections of it from the bone. Even if it hadn't been damaged, Antares was continuing to push down, uncaring of how the blood engulfed her.

The pair fell as one until the very last moment, Antares splitting off from the dragon, surrounded in a ball of blood that seeped off of her like tears. The Dragon fell outside of the border walls, vanishing from sight once again, it's landing emphasized by a plume of dust and a dull thud that thrummed through the ground.

Antares stood over the dust, watching, the blood around her nearly gone.

All waited with bated breath, waiting for the monster of myth and legend to rise out from the plume of debris like a monster from their worst nightmares. When the light began to filter through the dust, Asgrim could feel a collective sob begin to make it's way from the mouths of many men and women, the fear that the fight had not been won just yet.

There were no flames. No frost. No roar of defiance.

It was angelic light that poured forth from the dust, reaching out to Antares like a greeting hand. The mage didn't appear worried until the light closed in on her completely, with the best Asgrim could make out seeming to be her flinching from the sudden obscuring light. Soon enough it became impossible to see Antares completely, her entire body enveloped in this mystical light, but Asgrim could see the light itself.

Refractions within refractions, all embedded into the light like diamonds in a mine, visions of faces he couldn't place and places with crystals structures that he could not comprehend. Asgrim did not know what the others were seeing, but he somehow knew it wasn't anything like this. This was the Tower, and he knew that was as true as his love for his family. As true as the fear he felt in that land of madness and knowledge.

It felt like an eternity but the light eventually died down, shimmering into Antares form as she crouched in the air, knees to her chest and arms crossed against them. It reminded Asgrim of Mila, holding her in his arms during a particularly bad thunderstorm, hugging herself for comfort.

In seconds Antares broke the self-hug and soared into the clouds. They waited but there was no descent this time. She would not return, it seemed.

No one spoke, but they knew. They all knew.

Dovahkiin.

Dragonborn.

 

[Ridtom]

Interlude: The Followers

⊙​

D O V A H K H I I N

The words rippled through the sky and shook the earth below, not through sound, but through the fabric of reality that held onto the concept of the sky and earth itself. The clouds did not shift. The snow around him did not stir. These were objects of the material and his message was through that of the immaterium. Only when it encountered those of the mortal coil, or adjacent to it's purpose, would the message manifest around them.

A word of power. A shout.

He could taste the Thu'um leaving his lips, spreading through wavelengths that not even the most dedicated of Mages could perceive with the mortal eye, feel his will be imparted on the world. This wasn't metaphorical. His literal will, his self, his entire being was reaching out like a prodding hand. As always, there was a sense of satisfaction and purpose with each use of the Thu'um.

Kyne's gift, imparted on man by the grace of a being infinite in scope compared to their own. The fact that this gift required decades of training to master and the dedication of one's mortal life was not a deterrence in the slightest, in Arngeir's opinion.

He recalled the fires of his youth as he once scaled these thousands of steps, the passion for power thriving through his veins even as he faced down the mountain's native Trolls. He held no fear, for he was young and the young always knew that they could not truly die, not to such an ignoble death as to a wild animal.

He believed that even as he weakly knocked on the temple doors, one arm broken and blood spilling from a gash in his shoulder blade.

The Greybeards of then took in the foolish youth, healed him, supped with him, and put up with his endless demands for training. Strong willed though they were, he could imagine that they were close to reaching the end of their ropes when he continued to challenge them, insulted their traditions, and try to plead to their ancestry.

Arngeir smiled, feeling the bits of snow that crusted his beard as he stood outside the temple entrance. The wind was harsher than the strongest of rivers near this part of Hrothgar, whipping at his cloak and beard, but he found it comforting all the same.

What danger was rough wind next to the thrum of the Voice within himself? A core of power that he meditated on even now, he could feel the sensation of Tonal alignment center itself, and once his duty was done he would ruminate on how to better express the gift he had received.

He did not pretend to understand the intricacies of the Thu'um, as to do so would have been arrogance of the highest order. Perhaps, if he had taken it more seriously as a younger man, he would have delved into the scientific aspect of how the Voice were to work and try to strengthen it for his own ends.

There was no doubt in his mind that it would have stalled his change from boy to man far longer than necessary, obsessed as he was with power.

And I would have grown weaker for it.

To approach the Thu'um as a tool or weapon was to see a bed of water as foundations for a home. An exercise in futility and ignorance. True power was not something that had to be wrangled and forced to bend to one's whims. True power is something to grow, to cultivate, and to appreciate in it's design. To work with, not against.

In spirit and in body.

It was this strength that he called upon, sitting within the uncaring winds and drifts of snow, and it was this strength that kept him at peace.

A strength so honed, that even as a shadowy figure loomed above him now, he found himself more curious than threatened. It grew nearer, uncaring of winds it flew against as he was, and once in view he felt that strength begin to be tested.

A wraith or specter, he thought. Has to be.

Three heads of ice were facing him, expressions placid and eyes unblinking, long hair of layered snow cascading down bare shoulders. It wore no clothes in it's spiritual form, not that he knew how it could go about doing so.

From head to stomach, it's structure was apparent and anatomically correct, but once it reached it's hips...

He held back a shudder.

Flesh he presumed. Creases and folds of flesh, limbs, breasts, all encased in ice and snow to varying degrees. Arngeir refused to acknowledge the faces hidden within the flesh, none with necks or skulls to give them shape or definition, simply masks etched in cold.

You poor creature. What monster spawned you?

The amalgamation of spirits and ice floated forwards, it's silent descent a stark contrast to the howls of the world around it. Arngeir didn't move a muscle as it settled in front of him, six pairs of eyes focused on him, waiting and trying discern the potential threat that now confronted him.

Eight legs planted themselves in the snow before him.

Silence.

"What brings you here, apparition?" He intoned, "If it's peace you wish to find here... then I'm afraid I may not be able to assist you. I have duties to this realm that I must attend to."

The amalgamation twisted- no, spun. Ice and snow were cast aside like one would discard a robe, and the deformed creature vanished as a result.

In it's place stood a young woman, barely in the beginnings of adulthood, skin and hair unaffected by the tenacity of the storm. She wore Imperial armor that was singed black on her right, from shoulder to breastplate, and at her mid-riff leather knots had come undone or been torn apart. Her arms were heavily scarred with one hand still bandaged, and he could see how one cheek was swollen from a recent bruise.

She flew, head held high, but her eyes looked so very tired. The shadows under her eyes implied she hadn't slept for quite some time.

Still, a far less intimidating appearance than before. And a curious way of ascending the steps.

He tilted his head, "A levitating necromancer? Quite daring in these sorts of times."

"No," she said. Her voice was so hoarse, as though she had never used it before. Or perhaps worn it ragged.

No it's not daring? Or no, not a necromancer?

Arngeir hummed, thinking. He asked, "Are you with the Empire?"

She glanced down at her armor and sighed, "No."

"Mhm. A Stormcloak spy perchance? Or maybe a bandit with the spoils of war? Ah, worry not, for I do not judge either. Although I would recommend returning if they were the case. The Greybeards stay out of political games of Tamriel and we would not take kindly to a thief taking advantage of hospitality, if that were to become an issue."

The woman said nothing this time, simply shaking her head. Snow was beginning to collect along the spirit body she was encased in and she took a moment to wave her hand, the casual act causing the spirit to spin once more. Snow flew free and it was gone from sight once more.

"Then I suppose I should ask again, young stranger. What is it that you seek here at High Hrothgar?"

She was quiet for a moment before spoke, "Answers."

He gave her a questioning look.

"The sound. The... shout, in the sky. You were calling someone... for two days. I felt... I felt it. In me-"

She stopped, expression twisting, as though she had tasted something foul.

"It felt like I was hearing my name spoken, but I didn't understand it. Like a compulsion. I thought it was an attack, some power effect trying to warp my mind, but I- it didn't feel the same. I don't know how to explain it, but it felt so natural that each time I heard it, I wanted to respond. Not with my voice and not with my power, not exactly but... somehow..."

The young woman trailed off, exhaustion seeping into her words, "It felt like home and... I'm so lost."

Arngeir's eyes widened at the implications of what she was saying, feeling a sense of hope and excitement flutter in his chest. "So... a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age."

She glanced at him sharply, exhaustion turning to curiosity and attention in seconds. "Is that what they are called? Not Dragons, but Dragonborn?"

"No, my dear, it may be what you are. Dragons are, well, Dragons. The Dragonborn is... complicated. We would have to verify it, of course, but for you to respond so strongly to my call means that a connection must have been made."

"Wait, hold on please." She held up a hand in a pleading gesture, the other going to touch a stray hair at her temple. Around her, the phantoms brushed off snow without her prompting. "I'm not sure I'm following you right now. I'm... I'm a bit of a mess, I'm sorry. What's a Dragonborn, exactly? Does it have anything to do with what I- what happened to me in Whiterun? Or how I got here?"

More evidence to support it. His heart was beating so hard and fast he was afraid his inner Voice would leak out if he spoke too carelessly. Paarthanax had opened up the way to his disciples and bequeathed onto them the news of his brethren's demise and where it had taken place.

For the first time in centuries, a Dragon's soul had been consumed.

"I will answer these questions in due time, but first let me see if you truly are Dragonborn. Allow me to taste of your Voice."

Her eyebrow arched, "My voice?"

"The Thu'um or Shout, as you referred to it. I apologize for not making that clearer."

Comprehension dawned on her, "Like Ulfric."

Arngeir blinked. That was a name he hadn't heard of in quite some time.

Ominous, for the supposed Dragonborn to draw that connection.

Or perhaps I am but an old fool jumping at shadows.

In any case, he replied, "Yes, that is one example of the Voice. However, the tonal power used by those of Dragon blood are far more refined than those of most mortal kin. As part of my training with the Greybeards, we excel at deciphering the variations in tonal manifestations in our Thu'um's. Once I taste your Voice, then we shall know the truth."

She studied him, tired eyes now having a spark of life as she looked him over. Not just life, but interest, as though he were a Dungeon puzzle to be figured out and solved as quickly as possible.

Though his interactions with Dragons were limited to one being, there was a ghost of a resemblance in the way they both seemed to look through him.

Finally, she responded, "I can't use this 'Voice' of yours, though. I've only ever seen it one time and that was with Ulfric Stormcloak."

Arngeir quirked his head, "Not even in your battle at Whiterun?"

Her expression darkened, "No."

"Fascinating. Not unheard of in history, but to slay a dragon without the Thu'um is an impressive feat nonetheless. Unfortunately, I admit I am at a loss as to how I can proceed at the moment."

"I came all the way here, responded to the voice rattling my body like a fu- like a Master compulsion from Hell, and you're saying you won't give me any answers?"

His raised his hands, placating, "I understand this may be frustrating for you my dear, but please understand that I only wish to proceed with caution. This would not be the first time one has claimed divine connection for the Voice."

She frowned, those sharp eyes of hers never leaving his own. The bodies around her shifted and stirred, the crackling of snow echoing as they seemed to orient themselves in an embrace of each other. If she noticed this peculiar movement, she didn't give any sign of it in her expression.

Please do not misjudge me, he thought. I am but a man.

Silently, she brought her bandaged hand up to her chest and broke the incessant stare to study the appendage. The young mage seemed focused on one finger in particular, though Arngeir could not see why at his distance from her.

When she spoke, it was so quiet that he had to strain to hear, "I have his memories, I think."

"His?"

"The strong-hunter Dragon. Mirmulnir."

Arngeir felt like his heart had stopped.

She took in a deep breath, " I don't think I ever actually knew his name until I said it right now. It's not something I can tap into on command. It's instinctive, I think, thoughts that aren't my own or... or the ones that I've accepted into my life. I have too much fucking experience with intrusive thoughts and feelings to not recognize a new one that crops up when I get hungry or angry. And when I sleep I-"

She cleaned her fist and the bodies all around her held themselves tighter.

"When I sleep I think I can remember bits of his life. What he's done. Who he was. What he was thinking as he- as I killed him. Those are the clearest to me, I think. Because he fucking complimented me, at first, until I..."

Fear crossed her face, so deep and so powerful that Arngeir wondered if she would simply flee.

The young woman looked at him desperately instead, "What did I do to him? Do you know?! There was just so much fear in his thoughts, when I really feel them in me, and... and I can't stand not knowing what I did to that monster. Even though I know, I just know for a fucking fact, that I'll hate whatever answer you give me. But I can't ignore this. It's not right.

"I have so many questions and no one has given me any answers. Please. Please, help me."

The wind howled and the phantom women looked up to the heavens, as though they expected the Divines to answer the poor woman's pleas themselves.

All of the faces, phantom and not, wore expressions of pure grief.

Arngeir turned aside and beckoned the young mage forward, "I am Arngeir, of the Greybeards. I am ashamed to have someone suffer the cold and harsh nature of High Hrothgar, especially the Dragonborn herself. Come with me Dragonborn, and I shall answer as many question as you desire. I feel as though you deserve that much."

There was a pause as the Dragonborn took in his answer. Once more, he witnessed her fragile composure strengthen, so quickly it could have been an illusion. But the relief and exhaustion in those blue eyes were all too real to dismiss.

She flew forward, the phantoms shifting to one-side as she neared him. Still they embraced themselves, and in a roundabout way, herself.

Side by side, Greybeard and Dragonborn walked the first steps into the Way of the Voice.

⊙​

The voice behind her wouldn't stop talking and it was seriously beginning to wear on her good mood. Mood mood mood mood, always changing with what she learned and what she wanted.

"I can give you anything you want."

Aranel nodded, "You could."

"I can! Do you want coin? I-I can get you that. I know people, wealthy people, and I know their patterns. I- You and I, we can make a living with the people I'm talking about. I know the ins-and-outs of this entire island."

She shook her head sadly, "Oh, Darian. If that were true we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Sad, but true. True true true, he fell prey to every aspiring mind's enemy; complacency.

There was a sob as she toiled away at the runes. It was an intricate piece of work, using the blood of Argonians infused with the taint of Hysteria and Calm, deep red lines that seemed to mold themselves into the stone floor like tattoos on skin. A finger dipped into the jar, finishing off the maw with a dash of blood, and Aranel set to cleaning herself up for the ritual proper.

Hysteria to raise her blood pressure. Calm to retain her control. The duality, the facets of seeking what she sought. What they all sought.

Another sob, "I-I'm offering you everything I have. Please, just think about it."

"How rude," she replied as she placed the blood bottle back in it's home. The shelf was filled with other necessities for her alchemy; Spriggan Essence, Werebear claws, Frost Berries, and her favorite Argonian Maid novel. A little bit of inspiration for her vial's components.

It took a long time to track down Argonians this far out, but the promise of extra work usually did the trick to bring them in. Times were tough in Skyrim after all, and everyone needed a little bit of coin here and there. Aranel was nothing if not a fair employer and made sure to deposit ten septims into each of the graves as was promised.

Clink clink clink into jars that were covered in loose soil. Some creatures wouldn't go hungry for a time.

"Rude?" Darian asked after Aranel didn't elaborate.

"You assumed I didn't think about this." Aranel intoned, putting on her teaching voice and tone, "I'll have you know that I'm a scholar, dear sir. It's a title I take very seriously, and as such, there are very few things I don't think about on a daily basis. For example, if you were to put a Nord, a Breton, and an Imperial to the stake and set them on fire, who would burn the slowest and who would burn the fastest?"

There was a pause. She held back on thinking about it too much.

"D-Did you do that?"

"Answering a question with another question?" Aranel tutted and shook her head. Tutt tutt tutt. So very rude. Had she had known this would be whom she was dealing with, she would have been more careful with the selection process.

She rifled through her drawers, feeling a bit distracted. "It really doesn't matter whether I did it or not. But have you considered or thought to consider what the answer might be?"

"That'd be insane."

Aranel rolled her eyes. "What's really insane is how I seem to lose everything- Ah!"

There it was! She reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out her tool, "Nevermind, found it."

"Found what?"

Aranel held the needle and thread aloft in the torch light, checking to make sure she wouldn't run out mid sew. If she did, that meant she would have head to Raven Rock to shop for more and, ugh, interact with living people. Ugh ugh ugh ugh, no need no need indeed.

No, best to avoid that awkward situation all together and stick with Darian for the time being. As rude as he tended to be.

"Are you going to fix me?"

She sighed, "There's nothing to fix Darian."

"Nothing to-"

"And!" She pointed the needle back in his direction, "You haven't answered my question. Breton, Nord, Imperial."

There was a pause. Always a pause pause pause as answered were picked up and discared.

"Nord?"

"Oooh!" She said as she began working the thread through the needle-hole. Now they were getting somewhere. "Please, do go on. I'm curious as to how you came to that conclusion."

"Uh, well, they're bigger? And bigger, um, logs burn slower? So they might... too?"

Aranel was silent for a moment, letting the torches' crackling fill the shed as she considered the explanation. She began to wrap the thread, feeling faint hints of magicka flow through her fingers and into the spool. Nothing concrete like spells or runes, simply imbuing it with the latent energies as a conduit for later use.

Touch touch touch touch, letting more and more magicka flow. Thrum thrum thrum thrum went the threads as she tested their strength.

Good enough.

She bit her lip as she came to a decision, "Hm, rudimentary, but I can see how you might have reached that conclusion. Unfortunately, I can't say that I agree, since we don't have any actual means of measuring the mass of the individual races of Men to each other as a whole."

"So I was... wrong?"

"I don't know!" She said cheerfully, "But it's interesting to consider. Personally, I think it'd be Bretons."

"Everything in Nirn from the plants, to the animals, to the Men and Mer who walk it's corpse, all of them have magicka flowing through them. Some more than others of course, but that's besides the point. So, by that metric, the soil would have magicka right? How else are the plants getting it? And when plants burn, well, those flames must be expelling or at least made up of magicka! With a Breton's innate resistance to most things magic, I assume the time it would take to burn them alive would be significantly longer."

She waited for a counterargument, excited at the idea of her hypothesis being challenged. It had been so long since somebody broke down each point she made piece by piece, enticed her with the thrill of a debate. People flourished when challenged and forced to re-evaluate themselves after all.

Flourish flourish flourish oh fellow of mine.

"You're mad! All of this is madness! I didn't do anything to deserve this!"

Ah. Aranel felt her mood sour. Disappointed once more.

People always prattle on about what they did or did not deserve. Fools. Idiots. Buffoons. How can you quantify something so subjective in the first place? For all we know, none of us deserve anything. Or maybe we deserve everything. It's ridiculous.

She didn't say this out loud of course. Just because she was right didn't mean she had to be rude about it after all.

Aranel turned to face the still blathering mer, needle and thread prepared.

Darian was a handsome fellow, sharing his sharp features with Aranel as a Dunmer, but with a higher brow and exquisite chin. He wore clothes of the finest silk, meant to keep out the ash and dust of their little island, and an ascot of similar expense around his neck. Looking at him, one might assume he was of a noble house or elite soldier now retired.

In life, however, he was one of the most successful thieves in all of Solsteim. He was infamous for seducing women of power and prestige, be it in politics or magic, and then leaving them penniless and powerless as he fenced their wealth on the black-markets for himself.

Darian probably wasn't even his real name, but it was the closest she could divine as she tracked him down and he refused to surrender it to her. Not even her Clairvoyance could help, too weak to give her everything about him. Tricky tricky tricky tricky.

Enough to corner him, at the very least.

In death, he was a specter, a ghost, a spirit, or perhaps an echo of his experiences and his expression was haunted. A truly extraordinary facsimile of the living, many overlooked Ghosts or Spirits, some barely even caring to classify them in any specific way. Ask a hundred mages what they were, and one hundred mages would tell you the same thing; spirits who are trapped on Nirn due to external or internal factors.

How? Why?

The realm of mortally-challenged was filled with beings that were beyond that of Men and Mer; Aedra, Daedra, curses given life, and even the souls of Dragons as they lingered through time. What kept the nebulous and fragile pieces of mortal souls anchored to the corpse of Nirn, where they lacked any special qualities compared to other beings? What made their obsessions strong enough to overpower the release of death? What made magic capable of doing the same? Was there a connection?

Questions questions questions questions questions questions. Rattling through her skull and begging for an answer, any kind of answer, so that she could pick it apart and ask even more questions.

She was a seeker of knowledge and of answers, and they devoured each other like an Ouroboros in her mind, a way of living that sensualized every single new experience in her quest for more more more more more-

Ah. She was getting too excited. There would be time to ask more questions, when the ritual was complete.

Darian corpse had been splayed open earlier and she had gone about the gruesome progress of removing bones from ligaments and muscle, and then the muscle from the flesh, and then washing out blood from the skin. Messy messy messy, but necessary. She made sure to clean the bones and meat for later use, maybe for summoning, maybe if she got hungry, or maybe just for decoration.

She recalled an old colleague who carried an Orc skull with him at all times, claiming it added to his mystique. She ruminated on the observation after she had incinerated him and took his scrolls, and she had to admit that he looked quite dashing with it laced across his robes.

Perhaps she could have Darian's skull perched on her shoulder. Perhaps perhaps perhaps she could bind his soul to the skull for power. A skull of a thief that quieted her steps or made her kills unnoticeable.

Distracting but so damn intriguing. She was beginning to lose focus, which wasn't good. Not when you were keeping someone waiting.

Darian's interior had been covered in scripture, scrolled in words of power that predated the Empire, and written in the blood-ink of more Argonians. There was enough paper within that it would be almost like a scarecrow in mass. Mass mass mass, more the better.

Now she set to the task of sowing the skin-suit together, hearing Darian's pleads to fix him somehow filtered in the back of her mind, instead paying more attention to how the runes she had drawn had began to crawl across the stone. She felt herself be lost and found again and again and again in the motions of running needle and thread through soft flesh and crinkling paper.

The Runes continued to crawl crawl crawl crawl, sliding up the shack walls and ceiling. She could feel them work beneath her feet and inch their way over Darian's corpse, though they did not touch her directly. Not even Darian's spirit was immune, his astral form screeching as the runes enveloped his being. Black and green ink filtered through him like blood in water, and his cries were soon drowned out by the flapping of pages.

Pages turned turned turned turned all around them, because this was no longer a shack on Nirn, but a book being deciphered by an unimaginable power. Power of knowledge and answers and questions and theories and doubts and conquest and rule and more and more and more and more and more.

Yes, she thought. Madness could not describe her euphoria. Yes yes yes yes yes yes!

Darian's corpse rose to it's feet without her prompting, but it was no longer Darian's nor an actual corpse.

It was a Being, a Figure, a Deity, in the making and it continued to grow and grow and grow. It could have shattered the island Aranel lived her whole life on, it was so powerful, and so wise that it could have put it back together again even better than before.

It's form was humanoid, outlined in green and black energy that reeked of ancient magicka, and draconic wings of white light sprouted from it's back. The face was a wooden mask of living tentacles and glowing eyes, adorned with ethereal horns and scales.

Beyond Him, high above where not even He could reach, a glowing warmth hummed through the paper of this reality. The light was dimmed, much like the Sun in an overcast, but glorious feeling still reached through. Even as tendrils of green and black script tried to obscure it's might, the ink would dry too quickly and flake away.

The Being observed the dull light for a moment before turning to his disciples. Unconcerned at the struggle of power beyond Itself.

Brilliant. Brilliant brilliant brilliant!

She was not alone. All around her were fellow followers and seekers of knowledge, power, and answers. All were surrounded but untouched by the runes and scribes and scrolls and pages that this domain of infinite wisdom could provide. Some reached out, only for the ink to smear and become unreadable.

The message was clear. Only He would bestow what he thought they deserved.

The rest would have to be taken. By force most likely. Force force force force, an unrelenting drive to acquire what they desired.

That's fine with me. Oh Miraak, let me know what must be done to receive your grace.

Was that her thoughts?

Yes.

No.

It was all of theirs and it was His will made manifest within them. They would do what must be done, when given what He felt they were worth.

Their Lord spoke with a Voice of power and Aranel knew what must be done and knew how to proceed. Her clairvoyance grew, twisted in size much like a tumor, though she had never heard the words before. It was not a knowledge that she had possessed, but one she was grateful for in her mission.

Victoria Dallon. Scholar. Warrior Monk. Glory Girl. Antares.

False Idol.

Beware beware beware the Dragonborn comes for you.