Dovahsil (A skyrim story)

Chapter 4: The hand of those bound by fate

A slight pinch woke him up. Opening his eyes, feeling his eyelids as heavy as neutron stars, the colossus came face to face with a bird, which had perhaps mistaken a lock of his hair for a twig. He simply smiled, the sounds of the forest calming him too much to be able to get angry at the poor little thing.

He reached out with one of his fingers, petting the little animal, before noticing that something was wrong. The pelt next to him was empty, but instead of hearing the same siren song as the day before, or anything, there was only the sound of the forest.

Slowly, his senses sounding the alarm, he looked outside the tent, seeing Rigmor's shelter, entirely empty. His eyes darted left and right, perceiving no sign of life. The fire looked like it hadn't been touched for an hour or two.

He bit his tongue, knowing full well that none of this would have escaped him if the damned poison hadn't been in his system dulling his senses. It took him only a few seconds to put on his clothes and armor, his helmet sliding over his skull before offering him vision through his visor.

Picking up his sword, he walked through the camp, looking for footprints. He recognized Rose's footsteps, heading for the riverbank, but a quick glance and he could see that the boat had disappeared. There were other, smaller footprints that could only belong to Rigmor. But they weren't heading in the same direction.

The giant followed them. Rose had taken her bow, and she was no vulnerable little flower. The reason for their separation still eluded him, but the girl remained his priority. He made his way through the woods, leaving the clearing of their camp. Glancing briefly at the gigantic hole in the sky that served as the sun, he was able to determine that it was around nine o'clock in the morning.

Even if he'd had a night... Active... sleeping in wasn't like him. He was a morning person. And again, this was a problem linked to his current health.

But he could feel that his body, that marvel of nature even before the first abilities he had developed during his wanderings, was healing itself thanks to all that sleep. He was gradually regaining his former abilities and his body would be able to repair itself.

But he still had a long way to go to get back on his feet. He could what, defeat twenty opponents at once? Thirty or so?

That wasn't enough for his task.

His steps quickened, and he almost started running to follow Rigmor's tracks. Brushing aside a particularly large fern, their eyes met.

Two hazel orbs whose green tips reflected the sun, giving the jewels a soft golden hue. They pointed straight at him, as if she could see his eyes through the veil of darkness afforded by his helmet.

There she was, kneeling in the thicket, some modicum of clothing on her, flowers in her hands.

Hundreds of thoughts raced through Rigmor's head at the sight of the giant in armor. However, a great feeling of calm came over her before she could even figure out why. When she asked herself why, why did she feel so safe? Why was she feeling this sense of security she hadn't felt in years?

Then she remembered, the image floating in her mind, when she had opened her eyes moments after her fall. Waking up, carried in her arms. The same soulless helmet, yet oh so exuding warmth, having looked at her as she was carried in his arms.

Colossus: Rigmor...?

Rigmor: Yes...?

This simple moment seemed to last an eternity. Simply because both of them knew one thing, or if they didn't, they could feel it in the depths of their innermost being.

A spark, emerging from the clash between two threads of destiny.

---

Dancing delicately in the snow, walking and singing joyfully along the way, the dunmer jumped onto a fallen tree trunk. Walking all the way, balancing like a child joyfully strolling through the frigid woods. She could see a small farm with a mill in the distance. But suddenly she stopped humming, sensing something strange on the road.

???????: Damn wagon! I swear, when I get there, I'm going to chop you into little pieces! And use you as a toothpick!

A jester...?

Who seemed quite annoyed, the axle of his cart having broken, probably due to... The huge box he was carrying, which seemed quite heavy. Pulling on her cloak to conceal herself, she approached with a smile. The heels of her boots tapped gently on the ground.

?????????: Sir? Do you have a problem?

The jester turned to her, grinning immensely, straightening up with his hands on his hips.

???????: Hello there my fair lady!

He made a little bow as she approached.

???????: Cicero, at your service... Humble jester, comedian and master of the cabbage cutter.

She laughed lightly and passed him, kneeling to look at the wagon wheel.

?????????: Pleased to meet you, Cicero. I'm Salahrisu... Your axle has broken it seems, my dear Cicero.

The dunmer said before shaking her head and standing up, still feeling the jester in her back, her gaze landed on the box on the cart's tray. Then suddenly, her ears twitched ever so slightly, as she began to perceive whispers.

That half-second... Just that half-second was perceived by the jester at her back. And predators were always on the lookout.

Had she been a normal person, she would have been stabbed in the back of the neck, right through the vertebrae.

But she was anything but normal. She dodged, spinning forward, showing great agility, she delivered a heel strike that Cicero dodged. The metal heel looked thin enough to pierce skulls with enough force, which she definitely had. In a flash, she found herself in a handstand, before propelling herself with her hands to land on the cart. Her cloak opened, revealing tight, elegant clothes and long red hair...

Cicero, seeing a glint in the long intertwined braids, took another step backwards and instinctively protected himself with his knife. Another shock sounded, sparks flying before his eyes as Salahrisu landed on the cart. Unsheathing her curved-blade knives, a big smile on her lips as she began to lick at them. Another blade was at the end of her hair.

Two ferocious beasts looked at each other, their blades reflecting the few rays of sunlight.

With a kick, the jester hurled dust towards the dunmer, who blocked the projection with a blow from her cloak, but knowing full well that danger would follow, she cartwheeled over the edge of the wagon, the thickness of a single plank of wood being enough for her agility. Dodging another slash.

She laughed.

She laughed as she felt the edge of a blade right beside her. The best feeling she knew, that and sex.

Like a tornado, she spun around, switching between heel, dagger and hair blade strikes.

'Too slow... You can get him.'

She didn't stop at that voice. Cicero, parrying, dodged narrowly before climbing onto the cart with an acrobatic move of his own.

Cicero: You can dance, can't you? I bet you'll do just as well when I rip the skin off your feet and make you dance in salt!

A vertical slash at her, but she needed both blades to block the attack.

This crazy bastard was much stronger than she was.

Salahrisu: I'll knock your teeth out, cut your dick off and make you eat it the whole.

She accentuated her jab with a heel kick to the testicles, which Cicero dodged with ease, throwing a dart concealed in his clothes. The former slave parried, and forced herself back. Surprised by the jester's ability to hide his weapons.

'He's still got more.'

Kicking the box on the wagon platform, she managed to make it slide off and collide with Cicero's legs, forcing him back with a grunt. Climbing over, he threw more darts which Salahrisu blocked, spinning around so that they caught in her thick hair.

When she faced the jester again, he was already right in front of her.

"Duck!

Without knowing why, she ducked. In extremis, she dodged a knee strike that would have hit her face. Cicero's madness made him unpredictable even for her. Again, she blocked Cicero's dagger by crossing her own. Her muscles tired, the jester angled above her, she was blocked.

'Your hair.'

Gritting her teeth, she leaned forward, her hair sending Cicero's darts back at him, which he cleared without too much difficulty, the points not aimed at him.

'You can have him.'

Salahrisu: Shut up!!!

She said, shouting at the box. Cicero stopped just short of slitting the dunmer's throat. His eyes were wide.

The young woman's eyes were filled with hatred.

She hated being told what to do. To be given orders. She was no longer a slave, a fragile little girl serving the pleasure of the morag tong's agents.

She was free. She was powerful. And she always would be.

Cicero: You... You heard her... You heard the mother of the night...? Oh oh oh!!!

The jester began to dance and sing, the dunmer pulling herself together, tightening her grip on her daggers, still wary of the jester.

Salahrisu: Who's the night mother... And why is your box talking...?

He put his knife away, grinning. Hands on hips.

Cicero: But she's the mother of the night! And you, you're her listenr...!

??????: Excuse me...?

Both turned to see a young girl running towards them from the nearby farm. Camouflaging their weapons behind their backs, their madness and hostility with smiles.

The girl approaching them was the visual definition of innocence. Long blond hair, beautiful green eyes and freckles on her cheekbones. Her eyes and smile exuded life. The long white summer dress she wore contrasted with the leather of her boots, cape and satchel. All still clean of any scratches or traces of mud.

??????: Do you need any help?

The girl stopped beside the cart before looking at it for a moment.

??????: By the eights, your axle broke...

She smiled and held out her hand for the two of them to shake.

??????: My name is Ingrid!

Cicero: Cicero! Humble jester, traveler, comedian and singer!

He said as he leaned forward, shaking her hand with a smile that made her laugh.

Ingrid: Come on! I'll ask my father to help you repair your wagon!

The dunmer hopped down from the wagon, smiling at the girl.

Salahrisu: I'm Salahrisu. But for you it could just be Risu.

she said, shaking his hand.

Ingrid: Wow, that's the first time I've seen a dunmer... You've got great hair!

The girl guided them towards the farm, her steps light and enthusiastic.

Ingrid: Where are you two going?

Salahrisu: Riften...

Cicero: Oh, I'm doing a grand tour of the region... Windhelm, Riften, but my destination remains Falkreath.

Ingrid: Wow, you're not taking the shortest route...

Cicero laughed.

Cicero: Oh, but the whole point is to travel, my young friend!

Innocently, the little blonde laughed again at the jester's manners.

Ingrid: But that's wonderful! I'd like to go to Riften myself. Would you mind if I accompanied you?

The two assassins looked at each other discreetly. Not sure how to react to the presence of a lamb between two wolves.

Salahrisu: And why...? Riften's reputation goes all the way to Morrowind.

Ingrid: I'd like to join Mara's temple and become a priestess... I don't feel like a thief, I assure you.

she says, laughing slightly but a little embarrassed. Of course. The innocent little girl wanted to become priestess to a stupid, bland goddess...

Cicero: Oh, but of course. All fellow travelers are welcome.

When the jester said this, he turned to the dunmer, a smile on his face. Letting her know that she too would be welcome on this journey. After all, she still had to understand what it meant to be this fabled listener...

---

The colossus walked slowly towards the camp. Making sure Rigmor could keep up in her condition. In just a few moments she had already erected a facade once again. A facade made of a shitty character.

Colossus: Are you hungry...?

Rigmor: No.

Colossus: So she's gone to Riverwood?

Rigmor: Yes! Are you deaf? I told you three times already! Dumbass.

Perhaps there was a time when he would have been angry with the girl for talking to her like that. But the colossus calmed down. He was no longer the same ferocious, mindless, unrestrained beast he once was... He was better, wanted to be better, would be better.

Colossus: Sorry. I just think it's weird she didn't wake me up this morning to watch over you or the camp.

Rigmor: She tried... but you didn't wake up.

The colossus sighed and shook his head, his armor clanking as they made their way towards the camp, the colossus preparing what little food was left so that the girl would have a few calories to burn.

Sitting down by the fire, she crossed her arms, as if to protect herself.

Rigmor: Why... Why did you save me? You and Rose...

He stopped to prepare a breakfast modicum for her before freezing. Why had he done that...?

Colossus: It was the right thing to do... Simple as.

He said, shaking his head, before handing the girl a piece of bread with some leftover meat. The bread was still fresh, thanks to the magical properties of his backpack.

Despite the fact that she'd said she wasn't hungry, she gulped down the meagre meal. The colossus looked at her with satisfaction. Glancing at her bandages to see if she hadn't bled a lot, and sniffing the air to see if the wound was or wasn't. Finding comfort in the fact that she seemed fine.

Rigmor: The right thing to do...?

She looked at him between mouthfuls, vainly trying to find eyes through the darkness of her visor.

Rigmor: I don't believe it for a moment...

She bit her tongue, not really knowing what the golem and Rose knew about her. The colossus, sensing her emotions and hesitation, spoke.

Colossus: Don't worry. If we'd been after the bounty, we'd have killed you. She's the same, whether you're dead or alive.

He said before pulling out the last bounty poster from under his armor plate, tossing it to the girl who caught it on the fly. She looked at him for a few moments before biting her lip and throwing the paper into the flames.

Colossus: I'm not asking you to trust us. But in your condition you're not going anywhere on your own.

He looked around the camp for a moment before noticing that some of his belongings were gone. Rose's bow, the purse he'd prepared for her with the septims he'd found at the top of the mountain, and Rigmor's pierced breastplate. She'd had to take it to be repaired.

Colossus: Where were you planning to go anyway?

Rigmor sighed, looking down at his empty bowl.

Rigmor: I don't really know... I came to Skyrim hoping that the Sombrage rebellion would be strong enough to hide from the Thalmor... But it's a fucking joke... So... Maybe High Rock, or even Black Marsh...

Colossus: Where's that?

he asked. For a moment, the shaven-headed girl looked at the man, thinking that if he was her only hope, she was finished, imagining the beung smile he might have had under his helmet.

Rigmor: Didn't your parents teach you anything when you were a kid...?

He sighed.

Telling his story again to an incredulous young girl.

Rigmor: Is it true...? From another continent?

He nodded simply.

Colossus: And with my memory in pieces... All this is relatively new to me.

Rigmor: And so all you remember is seeing Tamriel... And being ambushed...

Colossus: Right.

Rigmor: That's a bit rich.

she said, frowning. Colossus sighed, once again sensing the same animosity as before. His instincts, his confidence, his faith in human beings had been disfigured, changed and bastardized. After being enslaved, how could he blame her... for acting like a wounded, frightened little animal.

In the end that was all she was, a little girl.

He merely shrugged.

The girl looked around the camp before exclaiming.

Rigmor: What have you done with my stuff?!

He glanced at the tent where she had been resting. There lay bits of her armor and clothes. He wordlessly pointed to the rest of her equipment.

Suddenly aware of herself, she covered her chest, despite the few garments she was wearing.

Rigmor: You undressed me? You disgusting pervert!

Her cheekbones were pink, and the colossus was almost touched. The golem looked her in the eyes before laughing very lightly.

Colossus: It was to heal you. Don't get too agitated, your wound might reopen.

Besides, there wasn't much to see in the hills department...

She lowered her gaze, suddenly aware that it wasn't just her feminine intimacy that had been compromised.

Rigmor: Did you see them...? The scars.

The colossus' helmet leaned forward once more to nod. His fist closed forcefully. Freedom, was something he considered so fundamental that he no longer questioned it, that as soon as it was called into question he was filled with aversion and anger.

Colossus: I recognize the marks of a slave... Do you want to talk about it...?

Rigmor: No.

She stood up and walked slowly to her clothes, gritting her teeth at the pain of her wound. As for the colossus, he gathered up some of his belongings. Thinking he'd just have to wait for Rose to come back...

Or so he thought.

His nose caught the smell of burning. Which was not normal. For the wind was blowing at his back. At the same time, he saw Rigmor's eyes widen to stare into the sky.

Rigmor: There's a fire...

Turning, the giant in armor gasped, seeing black smoke above Riverwood.

Colossus: That's where Rose went!

In a mere instant Rigmor was on his feet as well, grabbing at the remnants of the clothes she'd been wearing when she fell, not finding her breastplate but ignoring the fact.

Rigmor: We've got to go and get her!

Glancing at the shoreline to notice the obvious lack of a boat, he bit his lip before looking back at the girl.

The same fire burned in both of them. An intensity almost unattainable for ordinary mortals.

Colossus: I'll have to run and maybe even swim. You'll have to climb on my back.

Not allowing herself to doubt the colossus, the two began to run, despite their condition, driven by their adrenalin.

---

Playing in the garden, slender fingers gathered a bouquet of nightshade. The pretty plants and their intoxicating scent made her forget her sad solitude for a few moments.

The Skeevers and Frostbite spiders made poor friends... And the servants squabbling like hungry rats in a trap, for a little more attention from her father. At least, they wanted to be her friend. Some even wanted more, despite her age. But they wanted her as much as they wanted to eat and get drunk. She was just an object, and she knew it at that age. But she wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

So she played, in her mother's garden. Enjoying the solitude as a sweet, deserved rest from all the politics and intrigue. Looking at the beautiful bouquet she had just gathered, she ran to join her mother, the noblewoman immersed in her research.

??????: Mommy Mommy! Look, I've picked you lots of beautiful flowers!

Her mother took her attention off the scrolls and books for just a moment, before looking at her daughter with a small smile on her face as she made room on her lap. The young girl immediately sat down in the warmth offered by her mother.

????????: Indeed... They're particularly pretty... Deathbells are very poisonous, dragon's tongues can be used to strengthen muscles, these purple mountain flowers on the other hand serve many purposes.

The young girl listened to her mother ramble on about alchemy in silent attention.

????????: And you know about nightshades... What about you, Serana? What are your favorites?

She didn't even need to think.

Serana: I prefer the mountain one!

Opening her eyes, her dream ended, the darkness of her sarcophagus welcoming her. Dreams from her childhood were rare. Most took place during her non-life. Where they were nightmares.

Horrible nightmares, where she found a handsome Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet. To carry her when her feet hurt. A man to marry, have a family with and create the shop of her dreams. Two... three? No, four children.

Nightmares. Indecent, horrible.

Nightmares, because she knew perfectly well that none of this would ever be available to her again. That all hope for this future had been taken away from her.

Horrible nightmares. Horrible nightmares.

She closed her eyes again.

----

Onmund: Hesara! Would you like some breakfast?

The Nordic joined her as she experimented with her magic a little further away from the camp. Trying her hand at creating new types of runes. She turned her attention to the Nord. Perhaps the most pleasant of her promotion in the wagon with the twins. As stupid as they were.

Hesara: No thanks, I haven't finished.

Onmund: Oh come on, you know you'll have trouble controlling your mana on an empty stomach.

She sighed. Her search for power could wait for a moment.

Hesara: Okay, I'm coming...

Walking behind the Nordic, she took a moment to breathe in the fresh air. Skyrim's valleys were particularly mild compared to the mountains in terms of temperature. And to think Windhelm would be frigid by comparison...

She sat down around the fire she shared with the rest of the mages and the cart driver, a bowl of hot porridge being handed to her. Back in Summerset Isles, it was the sort of thing they wouldn't even feed the animals. But she grinned and accepted the bowl before starting to eat, having found a certain appreciation for the simpler food that kept her warm.

Hesara: Thank you.

She ate in silence, already thinking about her advances in magic, only one of her ears twitching to listen to the group.

Onmund: We should meet more of our people on the boat. And then straight to Winterhold.

Bjorlam: What's certain is that the sea will be safer and shorter than the road.

Magus 1: We could have just taken the road to Winterhold, couldn't we?

Mage 2: No, you idiot, the mountains are still covered in snow because we've only just come out of winter!

Hesara thinks for a moment that she'd really better learn the first names of these two.

Mage 1: Don't call me an idiot! We've got the same brain!

Magus 2: Just because we're twins doesn't mean we have the same stupid brain!

Or maybe she didn't have to.

Brelyna: But tell me, sister, what were you working on?

The altmer swallowed her spoonful of porridge. Not really liking Brelyna. The fact that she considered her a friend, even a sister, just because of the Mer blood in their veins, made her sick.

Hesara: Runes.

J'zargo: It seems to me that this one said she knew how to master the fire rune.

Hesara: That's right, so I try to teach the others myself.

The other mages all around widened their eyes. Inventing one's own spells required an enormous amount of talent, experience and effort. In other words, something unthinkable for brand-new mages with little training like them.

Brelyna: And can you...?

She asked the question they were all asking.

Hesara: Easy, I think I'm just about to finish the lightning one.

The other mages looked at each other in silence, as the altmer stopped paying attention to them, continuing to eat her bowl, silently pondering her spells.

Her arsenal of spells was limited, she was weak, the only way to remedy this was either to find new free spells, or to compose with the ones she already knew.

---

A peculiar arrow flew through the trees and into the heart of a deer. The animal collapsed almost dead on impact. She clenched her fist with pride, having appreciated the fact that she hadn't hit a single tree with this risky shot. Her small steps took her through the now-familiar woods to her prey, which had already collapsed dead.

She tied her legs with a bit of rope and whistled with her fingers, the antelope approaching in the distance. Then she moved her red hair back before taking a deep breath, knowing full well that this was the hardest part to come. She grabbed some ropes, using the antelope's back as a pulley before pulling with all her might to get her prey onto her mount's back. Once settled, she tapped her heels on her friend's sides and set off through the woods.

The hunt was good today.

Thanking Y'ffre, the young woman began to sing softly, the ramparts of Falkreath approaching in the distance, as soon as Thistlefoot's footsteps tapped against the road instead of the earth, she stopped singing two soldiers patrolling the road greeting her warmly, a small sign she returned. Once near the village entrance, she could see a little girl sitting on a low stone wall. A large green cape around her.

The little girl heard the antelope's peculiar noises and turned to her.

Lalanoah: Auri!!!

She jumped off the low wall and approached the young woman on the antelope, the bosmer laughing slightly at the little girl's approach.

Auri: Hi...

Lalanoah: Wow, you made quite a catch today...

Auri: Indeed.

She looked around, making sure there weren't too many guards who could hear her, before leaning forward.

Auri: I'll leave you a nice piece.

She said before patting the child's head, moving away when she saw the child's uncle coming, so she kicked her mount again and rode into the village. Some of the villagers she passed greeted her, her face having become a familiar sight in the small town.

She stopped in front of the butcher's shop, the man approaching her with a smile.

Butcher: Ah Auri... I didn't expect to see you today...

Auri: There's plenty of prey in the woods, all of it showing up with the end of winter.

Boucher: Want me to do the usual?

Auri: Not really, you can keep the skin this time, but I'll still keep the tendons and take a bit more of the meat.

Butcher: Okay. I'll make it quick...

Auri: Thanks...

She climbed down from her antelope's back, and the animal, now used to its surroundings, kept calm. Then she walked quietly through Falkreath.

She'd never gotten used to the smell of wooden buildings. But she only smiled bitterly. She wouldn't lecture heretics. She wasn't the best person to do that...

A little boy stopped in front of her. Accompanied by many other children.

"Auntie Auri! Do you want to play?"

She simply smiled.

---

Rigmor couldn't understand. She'd grabbed onto the colossus' neck, her legs around his chest, and he'd started running just as soon. No sooner had she settled down and blinked, than the colossus was skirting the lake before it became a river. He reached a narrow passage in the river.

He leaped, the steel-clad colossus leaping with a force she couldn't have imagined, crossing three-quarters of the river, before landing heavily in the water, struggling with what seemed almost infinite energy to get out before reaching the paved road. Riverwood was still maybe what, two or three hours away?

He ran forward, Rigmor doing her best to hold on.

He could clearly see the column of black smoke towards the village entrance.

The colossus ran, faster than he could.

His instincts were screaming at him that something terrible was happening. Silencing his body, which screamed in pain under the strain, his energy levels plummeting in the face of such a sprint and the weight of the girl on his back.

As the colossus ran, he felt the tendons in his right knee tear. Clenching his teeth, he didn't need to scream in pain. He ran, faster and faster. Not allowing himself to stop.

He couldn't. He'd always been a runner.

He'd always been a runner.

Whether it was to run to his sister when she was getting beaten up at school, whether it was when he ran away from home to traipse from one junkie den to another, whether it was to complete his first contract under the watchful eye of his mentor, whether it was to save his squad from enemy fire...

He had always run ahead.

Sometimes because of his courage. Others thanks to his cowardice.

So he ran, even faster

Rigmor could no longer keep her eyes open in the wind, watching the landscape go by faster than a galloping horse.

Nothing. Nor anyone, should be able to run so fast.

She could feel the earth trembling, and hear the rocks shatter with every step. When she couldn't take it anymore, when she thought her arms would give out, she felt the colossus stop, and the smell of burning.

Her eyes reopened as she found herself facing the small village, one of the buildings clearly on fire, and a few shouts echoing, as well as a real crowd gathered. The golem she was perched on dropped to one knee with a grunt, breathing heavily.

Rigmor: Are we there yet...?

She dismounted from the colossus, who drew his sword and approached the village. He immediately recognized the burning building, the small bakery next to Alvor's forge. He took a few steps forward, the villagers stepping aside to let him pass. By instinct.

Rigmor followed close behind, tightening his hood as he spotted one of his wanted notices.

Time seemed to stand still for him for a moment. Two corpses of guards wearing the yellow robes of the hold lay on the ground, as did that of the father of the baker he'd met yesterday.

Alvor was wounded just beyond, standing on the steps of his forge with a hammer in his hands. Having apparently tried to defend himself against the three enemies...

The three hoodlums that were Morion and his friends. Stolen weapons in their hands bearing the blacksmith's seal.

Driven by their instincts, like small defenseless animals, the three began to look at the colossus.

His armor gleamed in the sunlight, the blade of his sword blinding.

Three dead...

He had given them a chance. And they had taken three lives from this planet.

Morion: You again?! Stay away from us, and throw down that weapon!

He had grabbed the baker's girl, Lisaie was her name if he remembered correctly. And held his axe right to her throat...

Three lives... Who could still have done so much, so much good.

These people had died because of him. Because he had still believed in the goodness that lay in the pool of shit and darkness that was the human soul. His heart began to beat faster and faster, with the rhythm of a galloping racehorse's hooves. The veins under his armor became charged with so much blood and metal that they turned black. He arched his back, his breathing erratic, his fingers tensing like talons.

He had failed again, he had made the wrong choice again, he had brought blood, destruction and death again. A curse he'd always had, and always would have. No matter what he did.

Sparks flew from the metal plates of his armor, red sparks. And like two fireflies, two red dots appeared through the visor of his helmet.

He lunged forward, howling like a ferocious beast, skimming the ground. Casting a spell at one of the two hoodlums, right in the torso, to ensure that his clothes went up in flames and that his death was slow and painful. Dragging the other's legs up to his knees so that he collapsed to the ground like the piece of shit he was. Before leaping up to dig his fingers into Morion's skull, ripping the top of his head off.

No...

His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword.

He hadn't moved an eyelash. The whole fight had taken place in his imagination. Even if he could make it a reality.

He stopped himself.

No. He hadn't believed in souls utterly lost... He'd believed in souls like his. A soul that contained enough darkness to swallow whole worlds. But which had been saved. Again and again and again. When someone reached out to him... When someone helped him despite all the evil he'd done.

The red eyes under his helmet disappeared. Tears rolled down his eyes to the ground.

Morion: Did you hear me?! Drop your weapon! Or she's dead!

Rigmor looked at him behind his back, imploring him not to surrender. But under his helmet he smiled.

He had already won the hardest fight of all.

He was stronger than his anger, stronger than his desire to kill, stronger than his emotions and instincts.

Stronger than himself.

He threw his sword forward right at Morion's feet, and Morion smiled.

The shaven-headed girl just behind him thought her heart dropped to the ground. All those witnessing the scene took fright. There were a few hunters in the village, but no one had the courage to kill a man or take a step forward. All their hopes lay in this armed hand, which now stood at the feet of a grinning Morion.

The giant took a step forward.

He was a runner.

And he never stopped running forward.

The light reflected off his armor was blinding.

Morion: Get back!

An explosion sounded, a gust of wind was felt.

The two hoodlums were on the ground, stunned, and the colossus was heading for Morion.

Had he moved? Had he used a spell or even stopped time for a moment?

Morion had reflexes, and real malice. For even in the face of the colossus' gigantic speed, he slashed with his axe, cutting the girl's throat and dropping her to the ground.

He swung his axe at the giant. Who was slow, pathetic, weak and predictable. The kind that anyone with a modicum of training and experience would have been able to parry.

All he needed was the back of his fingers, tapping lightly on the blade as it flew towards his neck. And it was deflected, passing completely over his head. The colossus grabbed Morion by his throat and lifted him off the ground. His fingers poised in precise places.

Ten seconds and one hand.

Ten seconds during which the mobster struck the living armor over and over again with his axe. Before falling to the ground. Unconscious.

The colossus didn't take another second before kneeling down beside the wounded young woman.

Morion was no expert. Although the esophagus was open, the carotid artery was only grazed, creating a bleed, but she wasn't drowning in blood.

The giant sighed, his energy reserves low. Then he reached out his hands towards the young woman's throat, without touching her.

The healing spell book he'd been reading taught him to repair flesh wounds by concentrating the magic his body contained in the flesh-scarred areas. As for the elemental spark spell, it taught him how to materialize magic outside his body.

All he had to do was mix the two.

Golden orbs, like moon sugar, appeared in the colossus' hands, before coalescing into a single one, its strands dancing along Lisaie's body, a golden light enveloping her.

Her wound closed.

Lisaie: T-thank you...

she said, crying, before falling asleep from exhaustion.

Alvor walked towards the motionless colossus. Holding the cut on his belly.

Alvor: Hey friend... Do you still have some juice left for me?

he said with a slight laugh. The colossus looked at him slowly, exhausted.

Colossus: Need a drink...

---

She strode forward, her target in sight. A small smile appeared, her whiskers brushing against her hood and veil. After all, she wasn't to be caught.

The soft warmth of Senchal and the sea breeze caressed her muzzle as step after step she approached the little stall, her eyes riveted on a beautiful blue melon right in the middle of the vendor's stall.

A little fat, ungainly and tired, the vendor would be easy prey.

The streets were bustling, and even a Khajit of her size would go unnoticed at this hour, the shouts of merchants and vendors lulling her ears. Finally, she arrived just outside the shop. And now it was time for her little act...

She kept staring straight ahead as she walked, so as not to attract attention. One of her fingers trailed off, cutting the thin rope that held the fabric over the stall. The owner was startled, and set about retaining the fabric that gave him shade and kept his produce cool. The thief seized the melon in a flash before hiding it under her cloak, now that attention was diverted.

She quickened her steps slightly, smiling slightly at the attention of a misdeed brilliantly accomplished.

Vendor: My melon...? Hey you! Thief! Stop right there!

She heard a patrol of guards a little further away shouting and drawing their weapons.

And shit

She began to run, her long legs enabling her to quickly put distance between herself and her pursuers. Zigzagging between everyone, even those trying to stop her and snatch her purse.

Running, pushing and laughing through the streets where she'd grown up, she turned a right angle into a narrow alleyway, using a crate as a springboard to make a titanic leap and grab hold of a beam emerging from the wall of a building. Then she leapt again, reaching the roof of one of the buildings, the patrol of guards looking around surprised to have lost their target.

She laughed lightly as she crossed the district from rooftop to rooftop. Before descending with an agility...

Well, feline level.

Because she's a khajit.

LoL

Got it ?

Once on the ground, she made her way through the slightly quieter streets before taking a final detour. She came face to face with a few children, street orphans. Dropping to one knee, the children's eyes widened and they smiled as they approached the massive cathay-raht. The young woman unsheathed the blue melon she had stolen, before slicing it with one of her claws into equal parts for the children.

She watched them eat with a smile.

Children who hadn't been as lucky as her from birth...

??????: Nu'ur...

The khajit's hair stiffened as she heard a familiar voice, turning to see an alfiq, the tip of whose tail was illuminated by a spell, before returning to her back, to appear as normal. The cathay began to speak.

Nu'urja: Tsiheh... You... You were looking for me?

As her aunt approached, the cathay suddenly seemed very small compared to the older khajit.

Tsiheh: I'm not judging you for your little escapades... But it's crazy, I almost thought I saw a few gards a little further on... And that melon looks pretty good for the purse full of pebbles you're used to taking out with you...

The khajit moved closer to what looked more like a house cat, holding her hands out in front of her, as if the little animal was going to slash her to pieces.

Nu'urja: Listen... I needed a little exercise...

Tsiheh: Let's go home. Now!

Nu'urja: Y-yes auntie...

The khajit advanced, her ears and tail low in shame. The two females walked through Senchal, keeping a low profile before quickly infiltrating the palace. Eventually, they reached the princess's quarters.

Tsiheh: Seriously, what will you do if one day the guards catch you?

The cathay began to undress, revealing her white fur, striped with black. A magnificent fresco, said to be the trace of her distant Kapotun heritage. Her developed muscles danced beneath her fur as she selected clothes from her wardrobe.

Nu'urja: They won't catch me...

The little khajit, leapt onto one of the pieces of furniture before rolling into a ball, grooming herself because of her irritation at watching her niece change

Tsiheh: You could have stolen from the treasury... Smuggled weapons or anything... But a melon? Seriously ?

Nu'urja laughed, as she began to put on the jewels, perhaps those covering more than her clothes did.

Nu'urja: You're hurting me, Auntie. It wasn't just a melon, but a prize...

Leaving one of her paws above her ear, paralyzed by the question.

Tsiheh: A prize?

Nu'urja: Guarded by a fortress of baskets, a large vendor, perched on titanic ramparts made of palm tree...

The alfiq blinked repeatedly, before sighing.

Tsiheh: by the moons... I hope the game is at least worth it Nu'ur...

Finishing dressing, the cathay-rhat looked at her aunt with a smile as she gazed at her claws for a moment.

Nu'urja: No matter what I do as regent... There will always be those who are hungry. So... the best I can do is help them under the cloak...

Tsiheh: a bedlam again? Your grandmother would have told you that you dress like a whore.

The few bits of silk that covered her did wonders to hide her most intimate parts. Not so much the rest, which she proudly displayed.

Nu'urja: My grandmother didn't have my looks.

she said, showing off one of her powerful arms with pride.

Tsiheh: But what will you do? What if one day you fall off a roof and crack your skull on the ground while running away from the city guard? Or if one of the guards stabs you in the back because he didn't recognize your face? Your freedom is precious... Don't abuse it...

Her aunt had dismounted, to walk with her, resting one of her paws on her leg.

Tsiheh: Your people love you, as much as you love them. And need you. You shouldn't take so many risks... No one will climb the throne in your place.

Sighing, the cathay-rhat leaned forward, scratching behind her aunt's ear.

Nu'urja: Thank you, Auntie... You know I care about you.

Tsiheh: Hm... I hope so...

Nu'urja: I just want to do my best, and enjoy my freedom. While I still have it... Who knows what my future husband will let me do...

Tsiheh: Oh come on, maybe that snake Eleril will bring you a decent suitor this time...

A decent suitor... The ambassador of the Aldmeri dominion was now accustomed to presenting her with various suitors. After all, a princess like her had to find herself a good king...

As she sat on her throne, her long, muscular legs resting on one of the arm rests. Her aunt rested on the other, using the Nu'ur's tail as a cushion.

The two khajit's gaze was directed towards a small Bosmer, whom the Altmer emissary had introduced to them.

Nu'ur wasn't racist... But she did like vegetables, fruit and beautiful woodwork. In other words, a Bosmer was not what she needed. Then she had trouble imagining such a small, weak 'man' warming her bed... She didn't even know if he'd reach her waist. She hadn't even remembered his name.

Bosmer: Oh princess... The songs don't even do justice to your great beauty... Your fur, so wild, so resplendent, looks like the snows of Skyrim stryked by ebony...

She sighed, her abs dancing for a moment, catching the eye of the bosmer who frowned in disgust.

Bosmer: And your huh... Muscle... Huh... Fitness... Is... Most powerful!

The two khajits looked the bosmer up and down, the younger one looking at her aunt. Over the years, they had often discussed men, boys and the like. The alfiq was surprisingly experienced in love...

Men like to mate with strange creatures.

Tsiheh: He doesn't like muscles.

Nu'urja: Too bad, and I don't like half portions.

Tsiheh: Bosmers aren't extraordinary. But not bad...

The khajits finished murmuring.

Nu'urja: Tell me, little mer. What do you think of eating plants?

she said as she sanded her claws on the rock of her throne.

The Bosmer gasped, bowing his head slightly.

Bosmer: Well, if it's Your Excellency's wish, I'll comply with your every demand.

She laughed out loud, before her blue eyes finally settled on the man kneeling a little farther away.

Nu'urja: So you don't have the strength or presence of mind to stand by your own convictions? To the point where you can't refuse a salad if I give it to you? So what if enemies knock on our doors? If I need my husband when the world is against us?

She sighed and let her hand fall. Deciding that her gaze was no longer worthy of the bosmer.

Nu'urja: Go home. I don't need a man like you.

The bosmer, vexed, ran off under the emissary's stunned and angry gaze.

Eleril: Princess... You didn't have to be so hard on him... He's still a nobleman-

Nu'urja: If I'm going to marry, I want it to be to a man, a companion, a half. Not an accessory.

She sat cross-legged in her throne, leaning forward to glare at the emissary.

Nu'urja: And now that that's settled, we can discuss what's really important. I hear you object to the order I gave to the harbor guards?

The altmer in his thalmor robes gasped, his features as if carved by a mad mason, twisting ever more ugly.

Eleril: Princess, I beg you, you must know that such a measure would lower the city's profits, and harm the merchants-

Nu'urja: Enough! The guard will inspect the cargo of incoming and outgoing ships! I saw slaves and skooma filling the harbor when I went there! I won't let this poison flow through Elsweyr's veins! And don't you dare stop the guard from reaching the harbor, you don't have that authority!

Eleril: A-All right, Princess.

Nu'urja: And make sure the aldmeri emissaries from the other cities are there for the council. It's best that you see the reunification of elsweyr with your own eyes. So you won't deny it.

She reasserted her authority, rubbing in the altmer's face the reunification she had been trying to bring about for years. Rising to her feet, her aunt jumped onto her shoulder.

Nu'urja: You may go.

The khajit walked slowly to her quarters, thinking of a nice hot bath.

Tsiheh: You could have been a little more polite...

Nu'urja: Oh, please. He's not going to do anything but watch me put our country back the way it should be.

This was the mission her parents had entrusted to her, the mission she would carry out.

---

Rummaging through all his belongings, Alvor, his wound healed, took out the bottle of the strongest alcohol he possessed, as instructed, before walking straight towards the colossus. The emerald-eyed giant sat at the blacksmith's table, breathing heavily and looking as if he might collapse from exhaustion at any moment. The Nordic handed the bottle to the knight. The latter hastily swallowed the contents.

Alvor: Has combat made you thirsty...?

The blacksmith sat down opposite him, worried. The giant looked at the bottle in his hand, wondering how he was going to explain the concept of calories to a man from the middle ages.

Colossus: Every food contains energy... I've spent far too much of it on combat, and my use of magic... Alcohol, for all its faults, is among the most energy-dense of all... And besides, my body can counteract its effects.

Alvor: You talk like an alchemist...

But he didn't continue his sentence, noticing that the giant's condition was improving visibly in front of him.

Colossus: Thanks for the bottle... And sorry for everything.

Alvor: Sorry? Sorry for what, friend? Gods only know what Morion and his boys would have done if you hadn't stopped them!

The blacksmith calmed down. Realizing that he was pissed off at the giant, due to the fact that he kept undermining himself. The giant put his helmet back on, his gaze directed towards the stairs, Rigmor upstairs having her bandage changed by Alvor's wife.

Colossus: What are you going to do with them?

Alvor: They must have lost Locke and Thori while the two were taking them to Whiterun... And now that our guard team is halved... We'll just have to wait for them to come back...

He sighed, his gaze dark.

Alvor: If they don't come back by the time those bastards wake up, I'll kill them myself...

His eyes lifted, searching for the colossus'.

Alvor: That was... Good. Of you to spare them... But it wasn't necessary...

Alvor: Good. The only word he could find to describe how he felt.

Colossus: No. It's not true... I was like them once. Even worse. I couldn't afford to punish them... If nothing differentiated me from them, what right did I have to kill them? And what about the young woman's father?

Alvor: We'll have to bury him in the village like his wife before him... We'll see what we can all do to help Lisaie... this... the civil war... the dragons... Damn, it really is the end of times...

He said, leaning back on the table, looking to see if there was a sip of alcohol left for him.

Colossus: So what. Even if the world is crumbling all around us, is that any reason to stop dancing, singing and fighting?

Rigmor came down the steps with Alvor's wife, the girl having apparently been groomed by female hands.

Colossus: Have you seen Rose?

Alvor: The hunter? I heard she passed by and was arrested by the Thalmor, but I was at the mill. Hedren was at the forge.

Rigmor: The thalmor got her?!

Colossus: Hedren...?

The giant recognized the name, all the pieces in his mind slowly coming together, overshadowing the howl in his head that worried about Rose.

For a moment, Rigmor's mouth opened to call out to the giant. Except she didn't know his name; instead she walked over to him and grabbed his shoulder.

Rigmor: We've got to find Rose!

The girl panicked. She was panicking at the mere idea of losing someone who had shown her the slightest trace of kindness. Something she had appreciated all too little during her years on the run.

The door to the house opened, revealing a man in hunter's clothes carrying an object wrapped in cloth. In a flash, the giant was on his feet, his energy seemingly restored. He grabbed the hunter by the back of the neck, lifting him so that his feet didn't touch the ground.

The others finally jumped to their feet and began to react, the colossus' actions having fallen below their reaction times.

Colossus: You sold Rose to those knife-eared dogs!

A clever deduction. This Hedren had been the only one to see Rose with Rigmor when the three had borrowed his boat. Whatever he was holding fell to the floor, the fabric lifting, revealing Rigmor's restored breastplate.

Hedren: I-I swear I didn't mean to! But the thalmor saw me working on the armor! If I hadn't told them, they'd have tortured me and the whole village to get answers!

Rigmor: Dirty traitor! You'll rot in hell!

The colossus bit his tongue, knowing that the man was probably right. So he let go of him, the hunter falling to the ground, breathing heavily and coughing.

Colossus: Where did they take her?

Hedren: They spoke of a fort to the south in the mountains...

Rigmor's eyes widened.

Rigmor: Oh shit... Fort black...

The colossus turned his head slightly, and the girl thought the golem's eyes were on her.

Colossus: know about it?

Rigmor: It's south of Falkreath. An old fort in the mountains occupied by the Thalmor...

He nodded.

Colossus: Put on your armor. We'll be on our way. Off to Whiterun.

Rigmor: Whiterun? But no! We've got to go south!

Colossus: I have to take an important letter to the Jarl. Then we'll go get Rose.

Not giving the young girl time to protest, he strode towards Alvor, the blacksmith silently delighted that no one had died in his house, then the giant held out his hand to the blacksmith.

Colossus: Thank you for everything my friend, and sorry for all the misery I've brought here.

Alvor grabbed his wrist in a man's handshake and began to smile at him.

Alvor: I should be thanking you, friend. May the road be good to you.

The colossus nodded, turning to Rigmor, who had donned his cuirass and chain mail, now standing next to the colossus in intermediate armor, a one-handed steel sword given to him by Alvor. It wasn't the best workmanship, but it was sharp enough to be useful.

After all, they couldn't ask for too much.

The colossus reached into his purse and pulled out two hundred septims. Putting these on the blacksmith's table since he wouldn't stretch out his hand to accept them.

Colossus: Let's just say it's a credit for purchases I might make in the future if I come back...

Alvor laughed lightly, accepting the excuse to accept the giant's money. His wife approached with a small bundle of provisions.

Alvor: Very well, if you insist.

Sigrid: Here, Whiterun is just over a day's walk away. You'll need these.

Putting the provisions in his bag, he gave the woman a brief hug in thanks and good-bye, Rigmor seeming to seethe with anger and incomprehension. She too wanted to fetch Rose, so why were they suddenly leaving for Whiterun

In a flash they found themselves walking through the village, the grateful gaze of the villagers on the armored golem. The sun reflected once again on the steel of her armor.

As she protested, they had just left the village.

Rigmor: We're going the wrong way! We've got to head for Falkreath!

Colossus: Whiterun first, then Falkreath.

Rigmor: What's so important about this letter that you have to give it to the Jarl?! Huh? More important than Rose?!

He turned, looking at her through the darkness of his helmet.

Colossus: Helgen was destroyed by a dragon while I was there, I must warn the Jarl for that he will send guards to Riverwood and make the necessary arrangements.

Rigmor: A dragon? A dragon? Really? You've got to be kidding me, dragons don't exist anymore!

Colossus: Really, I've seen it look me in the eyes, I've felt it attack me. There are more lives in the balance than just ours or Rose's.

Rigmor: The balance?! Who cares? Anyone can do the courier job for you! No one's gonna save Rose but us! And you're abandoning her!

If she had any tears left in her, Rigmor would have wept. Someone had believed in her, had been kind to her, without asking for anything in return. She had shown human kindness. And the little girl had been so deprived of it, that she clung to the least she was given.

The colossus could feel it. But he couldn't bring himself to be the person Rigmor wanted, rather than the person she needed. He turned again, his voice louder from annoyance, but measured so as not to be hurtful

Colossus: You want me to be honest? It pisses me off. It pisses me off that I have to deliver a letter, instead of rushing off to save a woman I like, and have a kid right behind my ass on top of that. So yes, I wish I could run, jump and even fly to get to her

He bit his tongue, sensing that the next part would cost him some of his pride.

So not much...

Colossus: But I don't have the strength to take on an army entrenched in a fort. We've only got two days' provisions, no mount, no map, and all I've got is a suit of armor, a sword, some rope and soap.

He said, arguing each of his points with a light tap of his finger on the young woman's breastplate. Underlining the misery of their situation.

Colossus: Facing four wolves or bandits would be doable in our state, but not dozens of armored elves. So, Whiterun first. Falkreath second.

The girl wanted to say something. She wanted to exclaim and protest again. But she realized that this was futile. That her reason had to prevail over her instincts.

But unlike the colossus, she didn't swallow her pride, and as he took a few steps down the road, she drew the one-handed sword, a little too big for her, that Alvor had given her.

Rigmor: You're not alone, I know how to fight!

Just turning his head first, he looked at the girl, who was holding her sword like a rapier. More suitable if she was used to wielding a heavier, longer weapon. But with no handguard and the weight of a real sword...

He drew, quickly, but slowly enough for many opponents to counter. Taken by surprise, still showing a lack of experience, Rigmor tried to take guard, but too late. The giant, who had a reach quite unmatched because of his size and the length of his blade, struck with the strong of his sword on Rigmor's crossguard, sending it flying out of his hand and landing a little further down the road.

For a moment, he spanned the distance between them, only to land a light blow with his pommel on Rigmor's breastplate. The latter pressed lightly on her wound, making her jump.

She'd just been brought back down to earth.

Colossus: Well, we'll have to see about that...

With a flourish of his sword, he buckled it back at his belt. Before motioning his head towards Rigmor's sword. The young girl hurrying to get it back.

Colossus: We'll see tonight when we set up camp... And I'll take the opportunity to treat your wound.

As they set off down the road, the colossus waited for the young girl to retrieve her sword before taking the first step. She looked at the colossus' back.

Rigmor: Tell me guardian-

Colossus: Guardian...?

Rigmor: Well, you've appeared, and you're acting a bit like my guardian angel, aren't you...?

Faced with her mocking little smile, the man could only smile beneath his helmet. Delighted that she could show another mood, even if it was to mock him. As he walked along, the sound of the river and birdsong lulling his ears, his eyes riveted on the fantastic view, Rigmor came to walk beside him. The giant took shorter steps to make up for their size difference.

Rigmor: If you have spells that can heal others, why didn't you do it immediately after finding me?

Colossus: I improvised this spell on the spot. The book I learned it from only told me how to heal myself.

Rigmor: You invented a spell?!

---

A flutter of her wings, as she flew over the horizon. All she could see was the sea. Her wings taking her towards the setting sun. Ironic, isn't it? For a dragon, she hated long flights.

They were nothing but moving prisons, where she could do nothing but reflect on her thoughts. And did she really need thoughts, when all she had to occupy her draconic noggin with was destroying the world?

To fulfill destiny. Her destiny.

To bring this world to nothingness. So that the next one could be reborn.

It was what she was made for, and had been since birth. To rase this world to the ground so that an even more beautiful one could follow. An even more beautiful one...

Then the next one would have to be so beautiful it would blind.

The rays of sunset pierced the sky to reach his red eyes. Slowly, the dragon lowered its altitude to skim the waters of the ocean, which was surprisingly calm. Leaning back slightly, she let the tip of her wing dip into the water. Drawing a line as she crossed the water's surface, her draconic lips stretched back as she felt the water glide over her scales.

Then, all at once, she flapped her wings, rising as high into the sky as she could, before folding them back, taking advantage of the brief moment when gravity had no hold on her. All the better to dive towards the ocean. The sensation of immense speed exhilarated her scales.

Time seemed to stop for her as her snout reached the water. Before piercing it like a membrane as she plunged underwater.

It had always amazed mortals that her species could dive and swim. And she of all her kind was particularly fond of water.

Like a sea serpent, she moved at full speed across the seabed, moving among the shallow reefs of this part of the world, numerous small, colorful fish driven by the waves she created with her mass. For a moment, she stopped beating.

Her gaze fell on a small crab perched on a rock. The little creature paused for a moment to look into her eyes.

It must have been the size of just one of her fangs...

Immediately, the crab hid in one of the rock's hollows. The world devourer accelerated again, swimming out into the deeper water, again and again, before turning around. To look at the surface, now so far away. Feeling light, in the middle of an inverted world, blue and slightly orange light caressing her eyes. The shadows of the whales and schools of fish above her were cast on her dark scales.

Ocean currents lulled her eardrums like the sounds of whales. Water flowed along her scales, between every little hollow in her body.

What would happen if she took a deep breath of water? If she let herself sink to the depths of the abyss?

The dragonborns wouldn't even have to do their job. The world would be saved.

She could let herself fall and sink into the deepest abyss. Never see the light of the sun again.

Hesitantly, she flapped her wings, rising to the surface like a bolt of lightning, before clutching in her mouth one of the fishes from the school swimming around the whales. Emerging from the water, she spun on herself to remove all the water from her body, before starting to fly again. Seeing the coast of Akavir in the distance.

This world was so beautiful...

She swallowed the fish she'd caught, delicious even if she preferred it smoked...

Surely... the next world would be even more beautiful than this...? Surely the task for which she had been born, the task to which she was destined, was worthwhile.

The ocean began to stir with a few waves, receiving raindrops even though there were no clouds on the horizon.

The colossus, Salahrisu, Hesara, Rigmor, Auri, Ingrid, Serana, Nu'ur, Alduin.

The hand of those, bound by fate...

Well, the strings of fate were no longer in the hands of the gods.

A/N: As i have a lot of the story well planned out, i can answer any questions about it, without spoiling too much hehe.