"Don't piss off a dragon, wolf. Between the two of us, you're more flammable."
Calida, the Last Dragonborn and High Queen of Skyrim, has lived an unnaturally long time due to the amount of dragon souls she devoured trying to fulfil the prophecy. Jo...
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"No! I don't have an Elder scroll! Niid!"
"Al-du-in"
"You are Dovahkiin! You have the Sos of Dov! Do not qiilaan!"
Calida's dreams were often chaotic after returning from Sovngarde so many decades ago. It was as if her subconscious had been fractured beyond repair and the dreams were merely demonstrating the cracks.
Yet another thing she cursed Al-du-in for.
Most nights, Calida didn't rest. She would cast a stamina spell that would allow her to stay awake for a few days at least. Afterwards, she'd be too drained to dream.
Here, in this strange world she'd followed her white-haired daughter to, Calida still dreamt.
It was harsh. It was taxing. Calida spent several moments of lucidness between fits of sleep.
It was only at dawn that Calida's subconscious slipped into a vision.
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Even in the smog of her mind, Calida could recongize the mountainous landscape born from familirty.
The Throat of the World.
How many times had she come here in her waking life? To meditate on the Rotmulaag with Paar-thur-nax, or discuss the Way of the Voice with the elder Dovah. It owned a piece of her soul, and claimed her shed blood due to her battle with Al-du-in here.
Glancing down at herself, Calida was confused as to why she was wearing one of her finer dresses (meant to be worn in court held in Dragonstone), here at the highest peak of Skyrim.
She wasn't even cold.
Calida had very little Atmoran Ice running through her veins, so this discovery (even though she was somewhat aware of this being a dream) was disconcering.
"Dovahkiin!"
Lifitng her arm to shield her face from the harsh wind as a Dovah landed in front of her, Calida was unsettled to find it was Mir-mul-nir. The first Dovah she'd ever slain.
The Dovah that unlocked her Dovah blood. That sealed her fate as the Last Dovahkiin.
He looked as he did the day he was slain. Amber scales paling admist the snow, head bowed with pale gold scales protecting its eyes.
"Mir-mul-nir." Calida greeted with a false pretense of calm. Innerwards, Calida was a tempest of confusion and uncertainty.
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"Dovahkiin. Tiid....has been....kind to you."
It was almost equivalent to Dov standard of pleasantries. Paarthurnax had said the same to her after Miraak's murder, and the subsequent inferno she had started.
"I can't say the same, Mir-mul-nir." Calida responded after a pause.
A low sound of approval came from the Dovah's throat as she said his name with the ease of practice. A far cry from the last time she ever tried to pronounce his name, when she'd been kneeling on dirt trying to contain the power she had unlocked. That had been the only time she'd ever truly pronounced his name, but now it rolled off her tongue with no fault.
"Your....Dovahzhulhas come far, Dovahkiin. My...Yol...was not...wasted on you. Good."
"You're fire? Don't you mean your sil?"
"Perhaps. That...is not what I...wish to have this....Tinvaak...about."
"Then what about?"
"The Nir...they threaten your mate, Dovahkiin."
Calida's mate? Miraak was dead. Not even the First Dragonborn could have survived being torn limb from limb.
"Miraak isdilon, Mir-mul-nir. Has been for many years now."
Mir-mul-nir huffed, some black smoke rising from his nostrils in an oddly familiar gesture.
"I do not speak of the.... first Dovahkiin. This one...is known as the.... Sot Grohiik."
Calida stood there in silence, mouth agape as she processed this. Mir-mul-nir leaned forward a bit and nudged his large head at her stomach in a gesture of understanding.
"We will continue this....Tinvaak....at another tiid."
Calida sighed and the world went black once more.
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Calida awoke with a gasp as she momentarily forgot how to breathe properly.
Sot Grohiik.
The Dovahzhul spun through her head in a flurry of emotions as Calida sat up. Sadness, excitement, weariness, confusion, hope....they spun the same as a hurricane, chasing each other to no end.
Calida rose to her feet with some hesistation, finding her gaze locked on her fur armor in the chair besides her bed.
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Sot Grohiik.
White Wolf.
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Translation codex:
Sil = Soul Rotmulaag = Word(s) of Power Niid = No Sos = Blood Qiilaan = Bow Dov = Dragons Dovah = Dragon Dovahzhul = Dragon language Tinvaak = Conversation Tiid = Time Nir = Hunt Dilon = Dead
[[[[Author's Note: Just in case I don't post another chapter before Christmas, I want to wish everyone a safe and joyful holiday, whatever and however you celebrate. -Alex Rylie]]]]]]
