Suddenly finding herself in a seemingly old tomb was not something the elf had expected to happen after falling into her waking dreams. Something about this place seemed odd, wrong even. Throwing around a cautious look, and then another, she slowly stood up from her lying position on the ground.

It was then she found out more about her location. After passing through a doorway - near which several corpses lay - the small tomb gave way to a roundish looking cave. In the middle of said cave, a platform made of stone which stood in apparently deep, muddy water. Two lone bridges - each of course made of stone - connected the platform to the rest of the cave's walls, if you could call them that. Arya's initial wonder and surprise soon gave way to utter confusion and slight fright. All she felt right now seemed to be real. The stench of death oozing off of the corpses littered around her, the stifling air threatening to suffocate her, the dim light in which even she could barely see... it felt real. Something that should not have been possible. The waking dreams her kin had were always just that - dreams. Yes, they were aware that they, in fact, were sleeping and thus were aware of their surroundings, but it never felt as though they were in the real world. Living. Breathing. And in the ebony haired elf's case, shivering in cold fear. An emotion she definitely was not used to.

Her grip on the sword hanging from her waist tightened when a small and obviously weak being pressed against her mind. Startled by it, the she-elf strengthened the barriers surrounding her mind before sending out a probing thought herself. Recognizing the being to be her dragon, Fírnen, she quickly allowed him entrance.

"Arya!", an unusually squeaky voice greeted her. A wave of shame flooded her mind immediately afterward.

"Fírnen"

Her relief to hear him was obvious in her tone. Happiness overcame her, knowing that she could at least still contact her companion.

"What happened? Where are we? And, Arya, why is everything so huge?"

The she-elf glared at her surroundings as if daring them not to tell her everything she wanted to know.

"Sadly the only answer I have for these questions is a simple, I do not know. What can you see?"

"I cannot see much. It is a round platform, I believe. Two paths lead away from it. Several arches are mounted upon the walls and an altar of some sorts stands in the middle. There are depressions around me which resemble a spider web. And it is cold", his voice croaked at the end. It was as if her dragon was a hatchling again.

"Say no more"

Arya stepped forwards.

In front of her, a single staircase presented itself. The thin elven tunic did little to warm her from the soft breeze surrounding her. But at least her hair did not hinder her sight, thanks to the elven diadem sitting upon her brow. The first time that jewel did any good to her.

Deciding not to wait any longer, the elf murmured a low Brisingr and allowed the dim, green flame to light her way. She took a step downwards. Then another. And another until she finally arrived on the platform.

The view before her was unexpectedly beautiful. Arches were, as Fírnen had described, sitting upon the walls surrounding the round, open room. Investigating one of the said arches - a few rocks had fallen from the cave's ceiling and were piled along the wall - she discovered one peculiar looking green pile. A green pile which sprouted four small legs as well as two fragile-looking wings. In other words, she discovered her soul's other part. Her dragon, Fírnen.

"My, my. You have certainly shrunk since the last time I saw you"

Slightly smiling at his miserable state the she-elf lifted the beast from the ground after quickly extinguishing the flame. Gently holding him - as one would hold a whelp - she raised him up to her face.

"This is humiliating", Fírnen said in his newly squeaky voice.

Arya heaved him onto her shoulder and continued inspecting the platform. The altar especially captured her interest.

"What purpose might it have?", she wondered.

"There is a button", the dragon deadpanned, "Pressing it down should give you the answer you seek"

Expecting a trap Arya cast wards around herself, her companion as well as the altar for any possible threat she could imagine. A spike automatically shooting up and impaling her left hand, was not one of the said threats. It retreated after a few seconds, leaving a hole in her palm. Curiously staring at the wound she whispered Heill and watched the healing, green light lick at her wound.

"Most interesting, wouldn't you agree, little one?"

"Sais the one barely reaching the size of my head"

His squeaky laughter caused a shiver to run down her back. She had no possible explanation as to why the dragon - who had been as big as most human houses - was so small all of the sudden. A scary thought entered her head but left as quickly as it arrived. There were no gods. There had to be a reasonable explanation to all of this. Most likely magic. Or her waking dreams had suddenly turned into an uncontrollable nightmare of reality.

A deep, rumbling sound snapped Arya out of her thoughts. The very stone she was standing on seemed to shake. Purple flames flickered in the braziers circling them. The dragon snorted in surprise and snorted a petite flame out of his nostrils.

"A puzzle", the ebony haired woman exclaimed. Considerating the several knots the net had, she quickly figured out the logic and moved to push the braziers. The second the last purple-flamed pillar was clicked in place, the deep sound from before resonated again.

Only that this time, the very stone she stood on, actually moved. A sarcophagus-like structure arose from the ground.

Taking a cautious step back, Arya watched the dust settle around the construction. Circling it in soft, feathered steps she tried to take in any detail that might give away the true nature of said stone-made sarcophagus.

Just when she finished her second round, one of the six walls slid down, revealing a woman inside. Her arms were crossed above her breasts, her head slightly rolled onto the side, her skin paler than any elf's she had ever encountered and the short ebony strands weaved into an unusual looking braid. All in all, she looked dead.

The more unexpected it was, when the woman stumbled forward.

Using her elven speed, Arya swiftly caught the mysterious woman and softly laid her onto her back.

Said female was taking short, ragged breaths and quenched her eyes shut, not even trying to open them. Several moments were spent in this position. The woman lying on Arya's lap, clinging onto the elf's green tuning as if her life depended on it, whilst simply breathing in the stifling air around them.

Fírnen had jumped down from Arya's shoulder, allowing her to slightly lean over. Raising her left palm she quietly cast a healing spell, wondering what magic would allow a human - the ebony strands of hair had revealed a rounded ear when the woman fell - to remain embedded underground without air, water or food and still keep them alive. Quickly, she realized she could not find any signs of magic on the person lying before her.

"How, peculiar, indeed", she thought and sent a wave of confusion towards her soul partner.

Softly she caressed the young woman's hair - Arya guessed she was barely 20 years of age - and waited for Fírnen to respond. It would most likely take some time until the woman would truly wake up.

"Somehow, I feel that this woman is important"

Arya's first answer was a mental scoff.

"No, really? We suddenly find ourselves in a completely strange place, which is littered with corpses may I add, and rescue a stranger"

The small dragon sitting on the resting woman's left side nodded. An action, that would normally have sent the elf into a fit of quiet laughter. Sensing her amusement, he sent her the mental equivalent of a glare. Seeing that her smile would not fade so soon, he simply ignored her and concentrated on the mysterious person lying in his rider's lap.

She was rather beautiful, at least for a human. Shoulder length hair, of the deepest black he had ever seen. Blacker than Arya's hair even. A small, slightly pointy nose adorned the space over her mouth. Luscious, soft lips which sat in a slight frown. Whilst thin, curved brows gave her an almost confused expression, thick, curved lashes sat upon her eyelids.

Said eyelids suddenly flew open, only to reveal eyes of the color of molten gold. A slightly orange tone was mixed into the golden yellow. The thing causing Arya to slightly recoil in surprise was the black color surrounding the strangely colored pupils.

Blinking several times, the woman's view finally focused onto the elf hovering above her. Her mouth opened as she tried to speak. Slightly coughing she finally managed to allow a single sentence to slip past her teeth and lips. Past her very pointed teeth.

"Who.. who are you?"


I know, it's a rather short chapter. But - yes I know, everyone hates the big butts (I make bad puns, I know) - it has been a long time since I last picked up a pen to write down the crazy thoughts flooding my mind. Though I guess "picking up a pen to write" is a relative expression, in this case, seeing as I am actually. you know.. merely pressing down my keyboard's keys. I wish to apologize for any mistakes in advance and.. I'm not exactly sure what to do with this idea. I think I might be too big a fan of Skyrim considering this fanfiction's origins... anyway. Thank you for reading! And please, should there be any grave mistakes, do not be afraid to tell me. There is always room for improvement.