It Starts with the Dreams

Summary
Istari wakes up in a strange land after a near-death experience. What she doesn't know is that she lived through a catastrophe that changed her world forever. A story based on a standalone Skyrim mod called Enderal: The Shards of Order.

Disclaimer
Skyrim and The Elder Scrolls series belong to Bethesda Game Studios.
Enderal and the Vyn series belong to the SureAI team.
I have not created any of these titles nor am I in contact with their authors or publishers. However, this is to express my undying thanks to both teams for their awesome work and the opportunity to produce this fanfic.

Foreword
Hey guys! Just a quick note before you delve into my story. This is a story based on a standalone Skyrim mod called Enderal: The Shards of Order. This mod was created as a total conversion, meaning the story has nothing in common with Skyrim or any of TES titles. That said, there is no section for it here on Fanfiction so I'm simply putting it in TES series where it fits the best. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless because Enderal has a beautiful, deep story with a vast variety of colorful characters and a lot of new options.
To those who haven't played Enderal: Rest assured, you don't need to play Enderal, Nehrim, Arktwend or any of the Vyn series games to understand this fanfic. I will explain what happened in Enderal on the background, so whoever wants to read it, go ahead and do so.

And just a piece of warning – this is an M rated story and I have a good reason for rating it M. It will contain excessive violence, disturbing scenes, foul language, maybe even sex (though that will not be explicit). I will not restrain myself, as the original story was quite rough as well.

And without further delay, let's begin the story!


Chapter 01: Awakening (Prologue)

She had to speak with her daddy. Apparently he had something important to say to her, though she hadn't the slightest idea how she knew. He had not told her, no one had. She was there, at this peculiar place surrounded by rocks and tall, hooded statues, sitting on an empty cart parked by a ruin that appeared to have been a dwelling, having a clear view of a winding road that slithered through the grasses, uphill to a small building on the top. It was a beautiful evening and the sun flooded the place with bright light somewhere between the shades of gold and crimson. The fresh air was inviting to a delightful walk, and yet, there was melancholy in the air, despair even. Something that did not quite fit, but at the same time it belonged here. It was linked to this place, as though an eternal curse was cast upon it.

She slowly rose from the cart and looked around. Three crosses had been raised slightly afar, each of them bearing a withered corpse, each of them brightly ablaze. She stood there for a while before turning away from them, partly to force herself to focus on other things, partly due to sudden wave of disgust that shook her body – if that was what it was.

She could not feel her flesh, nor could she touch anything as far as she was concerned. There was just the conscious being that kept lingering there, as though it had always been there. Still, this place was alien to her, in spite of clearly recalling it from a distant memory.

With little hesitation, she started walking the path ahead, slowly ascending the gentle slope to the house. A sound of blade on wood greeted her, gaining in strength as she approached, and a man in plain farmer tunic appeared in her sight, fully focused on chopping down the woodblocks that he took from the pile by his feet. The swings of his axe were swift and well-practiced, but he stopped his motion as soon as he noticed a person approaching. As he looked up to her, he gave her a smile, warm on the outside, yet ice cold when one looked beyond the curtain of his twisted manners.

"Ah, look who's here," the man said in a gentle tenor. "Welcome back, my child." As she opened her mouth to reply, he spoke again. "Let me guess. You have found it."

She did not know how to respond to it. A feeling that she should not be here, having this conversation with the man, crawled into her mind and ate on it like a worm, but she was already here and a reply was expected of her.

"Yes, I have," she stated plainly.

"But you have lost it again."

"I… no, it wasn't me." She did not search for the answer. It had appeared before her, as though it lived inside her. It wasn't me. It was never her.

"Oh my child, why again… you disappoint me. You're making me very unhappy. But let's forget about all the depressing stuff. Come, I prepared the elk I caught. Thanks to the Creator, we can finally enjoy our crisp piece of meat."

He nudged her gently towards the entrance to the house. She did not protest and treaded inside in silence, carefully inspecting every bit of it. It seemed like a normal house, equipped for both farming and hunting, occasional trophy or picture decorating its plain wooden walls. Barrels and baskets with various fruits were lined along them. Blood was splattered over the pelt that covered the floor in the room to her right and it made her shudder inside, but even scarier was the table to her left. Two people were seated at it, linen bags draped over their heads to cover whatever was underneath – and she was quite certain she did not want to know. Four plates were prepared on the table and the supposed meals made her want to scream.

A child rested on top of each of them, every one of them misshaped in some horrendous way. She took a step back, but the sound of her father's joyful whistling made her freeze in place. And suddenly she remembered why this place sent shivers down her spine, why she hated it so much.

It was always at this very point. The sun had finally set beyond the western horizon and the only source of light were the chandeliers scattered about the room. The silence, albeit interrupted by an occasional crackle, was suffocating, but the sudden footsteps and silent whistling, too merry to foreshadow a happy occasion, made her heart stop. Her eyes locked on the father as though some invisible force made them to, preventing her from turning away.

"Won't you eat with us?" he invited with the same smile he had exhibited outside.

"This is all my fault," she whispered. And once again, she had no control over what she was saying.

"See? And that is why I told you to listen," the father said with apparent urgency in his voice. "But no, instead of honoring the Creator with life of modesty and devotion, you only dream. You dream, and you destroy with your dreams, because you are not capable of anything else. But soon, my child, you will burn, just like we all did. You always thought you'd left us all behind, like old ragged shoes you don't need anymore, but you were wrong."

She gasped as the ground around her caught on fire. She could feel the heat, the floating ashes burned her eyes and bit into her skin, and she felt as if she was melting into this dreadful place. The father snarled and his eyes gleamed red, the fiery color accented by the flames that reflected in them.

"You cannot escape and you cannot change! You never could and you never will! Now where is that meat?! Where is my bloody crisp piece of meat?!" With every word, his voice gained strength and depth that had not been there before, filled with venom and blood.

The father was ablaze. Everything was drowning in blinding scorching hell, hot, pressing on her lungs, dulling her senses until she could see, hear or feel no more. There was a flash of white light.

I led them to the light… I alone…

Voices echoed through her mind, mingling in a deafening cacophony, speaking all at once, shouting, whispering, crying… She could hear each and every one of them as though she was there with them, in many separate timelines at once. They were a part of her. She had the feeling she had once cherished them, nurtured them like her own children and used them to do something grand. But they were a so far in the past now, empty and forsaken, and soon they faded until there was nothing left. It was quiet. The kind of absolute quiet when you hear your heart beating. Then one last voice spoke.

Breathe…

Istari's heart was racing, accompanied by beads of sweat that surfaced on her forehead when she opened her eyes and sat up abruptly, gasping for air while clutching her knees. She was trembling heavily, fighting the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes.

"No," she whispered in a muffled voice. She was not even certain what she was saying no to, but it was the first word that came to her mind, and so she articulated it thoughtlessly. Her clear, crisp alto rang through the room and bounced from wall to wall, making her look around. Finally, she could see her body, clad in rough colorless tunic and ragged with scratches and bruises underneath the rather thick layer of dirt. She felt unbelievably stiff and her head was heavy, but she denied herself the luxury of laying herself back on the strangely inviting floor. Instead, she stretched her arms and continued studying her surroundings.

After a closer examination, she discovered she was in a strange, small building made in stone. It had no roof and the windows were but gaping holes in the walls. The structure was partially covered in lichen and moss, and light shone from the outside, coming from an unknown source. Then her gaze stopped at a figure lying next to her and her eyes widened. She reached out to the man instinctively and felt his pulse, then covered her mouth in shock.

"Sirius," she breathed after a while. So the companion whom she had met on the ship had not survived. But yes, she remembered. She recalled the fateful night when the two of them, hiding below decks on their escape from Nehrim buffeted by rebellions and civil war, had been discovered by a pair of sailors searching for some sort of chest for their captain. She and Sirius had given the poor sods the beating of their life and tied them up, planning to leave the ship as soon as it as much as touched solid ground, but a strange veiled woman had gotten in their way. They had been exposed and punished, Sirius ending up with a stab in the heart by the hands of the captain herself, while she had been tied to his body and sent deep into the ocean.

The rest was a mystery even to her, but now she was here, scared, alone, in a strange place with nowhere to go. Her dream escape had not quite gone as planned.

She forced herself to stand up, grabbing a stone protruding from the nearest wall. Her body refused to listen to her, as though it had not been used in quite some time. Now that she thought about it, that might have as well been the case. She staggered outside, which, in fact, was not outside at all. The structure was standing inside a gigantic cave, wild and beautiful, filled with ruined remains of ancient structures covered in ruffled greenery. A small river traversed the place and hummed gently over the innumerous rocks and pebbles that made up its bed. The light was shining from a crevice on the lower side of the cave which was the only thing that looked new, sharp and unpolished. She was sure that there must have been a cave-in recently.

Istari gave one last painful look to Sirius before treading uncertainly to the prospective exit. She took a few breaths, and with every one of them she gained new confidence. Soon, her step was stable and firm, and she increased her speed to get to the sunlight which she missed dearly.

The outside air welcomed her with unexpected chill, painful and pleasant at the same time. She felt her mind clear and her eyes focus, and suddenly it was easier to breathe. She drew in the fresh air and a smile formed on her lips by itself. She immediately made it disappear, having a quick flashback from her dream. So much happened without her consent. So many words said, so many deeds done. But not anymore, not this time. From now on, she would work for her dream, she would do what she wanted, when she wanted, and no one would be there to hurt her over her lack of the so called devotion. And she could end the suffering, once and for all.

She walked up a graveled slope, struggling against the avalanche of small rocks that bit her bare feet, occasionally rubbing the skin on her upper arms to warm herself up. At last, she reached the top and a new land opened before her. As she set her eyes upon it, her jaw dropped and she stood there motionlessly, half in awe, half in terror.

There lay a wasteland, with trees, animals, vegetation, but they were all dead, appearing to be made of some strange stony substance. Scorched, yet cold. Vivid, yet grey. As though time had stopped here, or maybe she had found herself in a strangely colorless painting where everything had been caught in motion and frozen for eternity. Amidst all that shone crystals of colored ice, mostly bright pink, but scarcely turning shades of violet, blue or green.

She slowly shook her head in disbelief, forgetting the cold, the discomfort and even the death of her friend. At least one thing she knew. Wherever she was, it was not Nehrim.


And the first chapter done. Just two quick notes that I'd like to add.

First, if you're not acquainted with my stories – please, pardon any mistakes you may find there, since I'm not a native speaker, not even bilingual and I'm still working on my English. Your feedback is welcome and I certainly don't mind nitpicking in form of pointing out typos or any kind of errors. I will definitely welcome any kind of constructive criticism as that is what helps me improve the most.

Second, to the readers of my other stories – I know, I said I wouldn't and I still did. Sorry for that. I was really depressed today and I needed to calm myself a bit, so I chose this way. Don't worry, I'm not giving up on my other stories! Never! So rest assured. Next chapter of Strike is half done, it'll be up in no time.

And with that, see you guys in the next chapter and thanks for reading! Stay tuned!

Mirwen