The Last Dragonborn: Novella's Legacy *On Hold*

Whispers of the Dragon

As I step through the rugged wooden gates of Riverwood, the air is thick with tension, and the chill of the mountain wind bites at my skin. Suddenly, a voice pierces the stillness, full of urgency and fear.

"A dragon! I saw a dragon!" An older woman stands on her porch, her face pale and wild, eyes wide with the terror of what she has witnessed. Her hands tremble at her sides as she gazes toward the jagged silhouette of Bleak Falls Barrow as if the mere sight of it could conjure the beast once more.

A younger man lingers in the street, his brow furrowed in annoyance as he rolls his eyes skyward. "What? What is now, mother?" His tone is sharp and dismissive as if he's heard these wild tales too many times.

"It was as big as the mountain and black as night!" she insists, her voice filling with raw emotion. "It flew right over the barrow, I swear it!" Her gaze darts between the sky and her son, pleading for him to understand.

"Dragons, now, is it? Please, mother," he scoffs, crossing his arms defensively. "If you keep on like this, everyone in town will think you're crazy. And I've got better things to do than listen to more of your fantasies." With that, he turns on his heel, striding away with a hasty gait, leaving her behind.

A wave of sympathy washes over me, and I want nothing more than to comfort her, to tell her that she isn't mad—that dragons are as real as the mountains looming over us. But Ralof nudges me forward, and I know I must follow, even as my heart aches for the woman's plight.

As I step onto the small wooden bridge that arches over a babbling brook, her voice calls out one last time, filled with desperation. "You'll see! It was a dragon! It'll kill us all, and then you'll believe me!" Her words hang in the air like a prophecy, a chilling echo that cuts deep into my soul. I want to cry for her, but the tears refuse to come.

Crossing the bridge, I catch sight of an elf trudging in the opposite direction, his arms laden with firewood. His expression is a mask of anger, his jaw tight as if he's carrying the world's weight on his shoulders. Perhaps the heaviness of this cursed land makes everyone here seem so grim. I can't help but wonder what horrors Riverwood has faced and whether the dragon truly is upon us.

"Did I see you talking to Sven?" A stranger's voice cuts through the morning air's chill, pulling my attention away from Ralof. He stands there, brow raised, as if he knows me. "Maybe not... never mind. But I'd stay away from him if I were you."

Sven? Who is this man? I glance at him, confusion swirling in my mind. He shrugs dismissively and continues, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Shaking off the encounter, I sprint after Ralof, who has nearly reached a woman standing near the edge of the village. As I draw closer, the resemblance is unmistakable; this must be Gerdur, his sister.

"Gerdur!" Ralof calls out, his voice booming with relief, and he rushes to her side. She turns, her eyes lighting up with joy, and in an instant, she wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a fierce embrace.

"Brother! Mara's mercy, it's good to see you!" Gerdur exclaims, holding him tightly. Her eyes scan his face for any signs of harm. She cups her hands around his chin and frowns, concern etching deeper lines on her brow. "But is it safe for you to be here? We heard that Ulfric had been captured..."

"Gerdur..." He gently pushes her hands away, a gesture meant to reassure her. "Gerdur, I'm fine. At least now I am."

Her scowl deepens as she begins to check him over for injuries, her hands moving to inspect his arms and shoulders. I linger a few paces away, unsure how to intrude on this heartfelt reunion.

"Are you hurt? What's happened?" she presses, her voice a mix of worry and relief. Then her gaze shifts, and she spots me standing there, my face flushing crimson under her scrutiny. "And who's this? One of your comrades?"