I try to run—

As I see the skin start to bubble and curl I'm already turning—already cursing—because this is Skyrim and my luck is always fetched.

I try to run—

Because my fury and resolve is slipping like sand through my fingers (just like my bow is dropping from nerveless hands) and the fear is taking hold. Divines, what am I doing here?

I try to run—

But I'm slow, too slow and I'm tired. My head is heavy and my eyes are so caked with dirt and blood I doubt I could even cry. And then there's movement behind me. The air is suddenly too close and the fire has its own roar even as the beast lies dead and ... I can't look. I won't look. Don't stop, don't you dare stop you stupid girl!

I try to run—

Ringing in my ears.

Blackness around the edges.

I'm going to die.

I try to run—

The ground shifts. Something grabs me, and I think I'm screaming and it's like Kynareth herself is wrapping her veil around me. And then I'm tripping on air and choking.

I try to run—

But this struggle is not for mortal bones to bear. And the grasp of whatever force is leaking from the beasts corpse has my heart nearly beating itself out of my chest. But there's—

… mother …

—a whisper in my ear. I'm looking over my shoulder. The first thing I see is the skeleton bare of any meat or sinew and the skull is a true horror. And clustered around it…

—this is where madness begins. Imagine hundreds of them. Phantoms, on the ground, in the air; they stand individually some closer to their neighbours than others, but none of them touch. There's a pall that hangs on them, a black hole behind and their eyes are fixed on me.

… daughter …

My body starts. There's a hand on my shoulder and I can see through it to the leather of my armoured shoulder. I look to my right. He looks like a Nord, but I've never seen his style of weaponry. He inclines his head to me and smiles.

… sister …

I flinch suddenly, because someone's touching my other shoulder. I look to my left and I can't stop staring because this one is a Bosmer, like me and I don't recognise his clan braids. He inclines his head but does not smile.

I try to run—

But their strength is otherworldly and I can't move an inch.

… mate …

I look over my shoulder again and I can feel the blood already draining from my face. I am facing a dragon, the largest dragon I have ever seen. He (it must be a 'he') is black as the Void and his scales seem to suck in all light. Eyes the colour of blood and fire catch mine and I can't breathe.

Greetings motherdaughtersistermate. We have much to discuss.

"Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future." –Sonmi 451, Cloud Atlas (2012)

A/N: And all the dragonborn have a reunion yayyy! And I really should be doing my history paper. It's due tomorrow. Oh well.

Fronein (noun) - Dovahzul meaning 'kindred'.