Eternities drifted past Alduin's eyes like paper lanterns over a blackened lake.

He wasn't fully awake; his mind was too numb to grasp the timelines that frayed and weaved before him, but he was not fully asleep either. His body swayed in some form of perpetual fall, though not even the World-Eater knew where he was falling to. The constant motion, and the sensation of infinite durations of time kept him restless.

Only Alduin's sheer force of will was holding him together at this point. Indeed, he would have been torn apart and ceased to exist were he not a timeless dov spawned from Akatosh. Everything hurt, and to a being who couldn't be moved by the mightiest mortal blade nor loudest thu'um, pain was something foreign. It rent him to the core.

It was an eternal reminder of that accursed perversion of the thu'um the vermin used against him, on his own sacred mountain. He should have learned from Miraak how great was the hubris and insolence of humanity; for an instant he allowed himself to let his guard down as he swooped in on the trespassing trio that challenged him, the World-Eater wondering what punishment he would mete out to avenge his lesser kin.

He saw them, with their dull and primitive weapons, their tiny voice, and their frail mortal bodies. Such a pitiful display against him, a god, who permitted them to live just so they could bask in his greatness and wisdom, whose whisper could utterly dismantle time's effect on whatever he desired.

But, while he correctly deemed their power wanting, he underestimated their ability to drag the dov to their level. Their true weapon was the thu'um, as he expected, but he was not ready for the words they sung to him.

Joor. Zah. Frul. They were sickening words. Alduin never paid them mind, and never spoke of them to his fellow dovah. He had no use for them, they had no use for them, for such trifles were reserved for jul. And yet, thanks to jul's whore of a goddess and Alduin's traitor brother, they infused them into the dragon language.

When they struck him, he could feel the most incomprehensible sensations overtake him. He, who never felt pain, or fear, or hesitation. Who was free to roam the world across the skies, and never knew a height beyond his reach. Who was never sick, never felt the cold of winter, the heat of summer, who never felt Mundus pull at his feet.

All these things and more he experienced in that instant. He could feel it rending his very soul.

With the suddenness of being consumed by a flame, he could feel himself trying to catch his breath atop the high mountain. He could feel the icy grip of the brutal wind catching his wings and seeping through his scales. He fell from the air, the snow kicking up around his resting place. Alduin's steady dov heart started beating so erratically he feared he would faint as he stood up. He could feel his tail dragging against the ground, his legs creaking to support his weight as he squinted at the warriors through the icy mist stinging his eyes. As they advanced, he found himself- Alduin, the World-Eater, ravager of Sovngarde and bringer of the end- recoiling. For the first time since Akatosh dreamt him into being, before the Throat of the World itself came to be, Alduin's feet stumbled on the rocks as he tried to catch his footing.

The fear eclipsed everything else. The snow around his sinking feet slowed him down, Alduin's legs feeling tired as he drug them through the drifts. The peak was too high and steep to surmount, his wings wouldn't respond to his desperate pleas to carry him, so Alduin searched for a path through the uneven terrain.

Escape. He realized how badly he wanted to escape, then he realized why. The final revelation struck him harder than the rest, so much so Alduin feared his heart would stop beating in his chest.

He was afraid to die. They could cut away at him, spill his blood, strip the flesh from his bones. He could fall over in the snow and be overtaken with cold and exhaustion, and never rise again.

He was nothing. What was the point of existing if he would depart the world and lose everything?

He nearly missed the words of the shield-maiden as she charged forth with her mighty greatsword, "You feel fear for the first time, worm. I see it in your eyes!" she boasted, "Skyrim will be free!"

And he did fear. Then, in that moment of total despair, a part of him seethed with indignation. A human calling him "worm"? He would have laughed at such a pathetic insult, as the gulf between jul and dov was as vast as the gulf between the sky and cosmos.

Alduin stared down on her with his fiery red eyes as he leaned up. He measured her hands to his massive paws, her sword to his claws. The World-Eater found a rebuttal to the terrible truth the jul implanted as his maw opened into a snarl, his tail and wings rising as a growl to shake the heavens poured from his steaming throat.

The Shield-Maiden stumbled as she tried to halt her reckless charge, and Alduin lashed out with ferocity unlike anything the world had seen. His roar shook the mountain as he abandoned all sense of death and his composure as a dov, his senses flooding with an animalistic frenzy to survive.

Gormlaith, named by the voices calling to her, attempted to evade him but the wyrmlings she slew were nothing compared to the World-Eater. He was faster and stronger and mightier than any being, joor or otherwise, and he relished it as he caught her in his teeth. His ears were caressed by her dying screams as her blood flooded over his teeth, Alduin chomping through her, steel armor and all.

One of them shouted at Alduin, the icy breath stinging him, but the illusion of weakness was faded. The World-Eater was a cripple compared to his immortal state, but it would take more than simple cold to kill him as he spat out the mangled wreck of the once proud warrior woman. He found more appreciation for his strength than he ever had before as he charged at the man attempting to slow him with furious bloodlust.

"Felldir, use it!" he screamed, "Fus Ro Dah!" The concussive force of the thu'um scattered the clouds around him and struck Alduin in the face, but that didn't stop him from forcing his way through. The man barely evaded Alduin's claws, but was too unsteady to evade again as the World-Eater brought his other palm down, luxuriating in the sound of crushed bones and the feeling of blood and guts welling between his fingers.

Alduin turned on the last, blinded by rage, when he spotted the unmistakable shape of an Elder Scroll hot with the effort of channeling its energies, "Faal Kel...?!"

"Begone, World-Eater!" the mortal shouted, bearing his final hope over his head,

"Nikriinne!" Alduin screeched, plasma rising in his throat as he charged.

"By words with older bones than your own, we break your perch on this age and send you out!"

"Quo Ag'Kren!" Alduin's shout erupted as a dazzling tempest of cosmic light, the violet rays setting the mountain alight and causing the snow in its path to explode into steam. The man it struck was erased from existence, but alas, it was too late. Alduin felt the universe tear open around him, his spirit being pulled into the void. He fought against it, but the old man was right; he was helpless to resist something further beyond the age and power of Akatosh himself.

Alduin had no concept of how long ago that was. It could have been anywhere from a few hours to several thousand years. But, with every measure of his focus and energy, he kept the memory alive. He relived the moment of his greatest shame and failure endlessly, refusing to let it go. It was the burning shame, the pain wracking his body and soul, that kept his will to live kindled.

He knew the scar in time was still there, he could feel it. The foolish humans could throw him out, but the World-Eater was too deeply connected to Mundus to be severed from her entirely. He may have been trapped in his semi-mortal state, but he would still live more than long enough to find his way back.

Just then, Alduin sighted a massive rift. The World-Eater willed himself towards this glowing chasm in the blackness, falling exponentially faster into the blinding light until he was enveloped by paracausal power completely. After a few moments of blindness, Alduin was ejected from the formless vacuum, his vision spotty as he fell pray to gravity for the first time in millennia.

Alduin's momentum carried him several paces from the time-scar before crashing into the snow and tumbling downhill, eventually rolling to a stop. As he lay there, Alduin's lungs filled with fresh air and the scent of mountain evergreens and winter. The wind waked over his prone carcass as his eyes slid closed, drifts of snow migrating over him. He could not will his eyes to open again, and his limp body refused to move. After a few moments of struggling, Alduin found himself aloof to the idea of vulnerability, already feeling his strength returning. The World-Eater gave in to torpor, his breath finding a slow, deep rhythm as he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The ocean heaved beneath a smoggy sky, the dusty clouds obscuring the last remnants of sunlight the world would ever see. Windswept dunes taller than the city crept towards the bay, the blasted heaps of rubble, sand, and ashes enclosing the harbor like hungry jaws. It seemed the grey, dead world wasn't ready to fully end until everything was erased. Even the air betrayed life; it was sickly yellow, like viewing the world through a sheen of bile. Every breath assailed the lungs and throat with a vile, acrid mouthful of crushed rocks and flakes of glass kicked up with each gust of wind, making it nothing short of miraculous a thriving colony could exist here.

The basin of dunes made the port hard to find, and even harder to reach. The only reliable way in was a distinctly U-shaped trench dug into the eastern ridge. The winding pilgrim's path beneath the mouth gave it a serpentine shape, a parade of pilgrims cresting the mouth and traipsing down the throat, until they were shat out at the base of the sheer cliff. Knights and noblemen were made equal as they wearily escorted their wagons, the carts piled with everything they saw fit to drag from home.

Their dress and skin was a schizophrenic collage of Astora and Carim, Lothric and Zena and Jugo, everywhere. They all converged on this barony, which only months ago had been nearly abandoned after the sands claimed the rest of the coastal kingdom. All because it had the good fortune of being the closest place to the great rift. Wriggling souls were traded back and forth over moldy counters piled with every ware imaginable, though fresh food and clean water was a luxury so lavish many settled for dredging scraps from the rubbish heap and used their precious souls to buy a sturdy sword and polished armor.

Residents hung their dirty laundry out the cracked windows, illuminated in their bedrooms by the daylight filtering in through the holes in the ceiling. The tenants and landlords argued over rent above the homeless lounging in the alley, the wandering people sipping aged beer and chewing hard foods they'd carried for the journey. Still more hoards spoke their native tongue excitedly as they patrolled the roads, staying close to deter the many skulking thieves and bandits

It was one of the most vibrant and noisy hives of civilization born in this wretched era, but the grandest display, along the oceanway before the city, was the shipyards. Everywhere, houses were being stripped to the foundation for wood, and petrified trees and scraps drug from the dunes were being sawn apart and beaten down with rusted hammers. Boats of every color and style were sitting at the piers, soldiers and builders standing side by side as they hauled the materials to their flanks and set to work getting the slipshod vessels seaworthy, driven by mad fervor to earn a place aboard them.

The moment a vessel was ready and loaded to the bridge with supplies, waiting crowds were filed on. The guards confiscated unimaginable treasures, but the pilgrims gave them gladly for a tightly-packed seat, their weary eyes filled with hope and joy.

Anne watched this from a dune to the south, far away from the pilgrim's path. She'd approached the colony many times, always retreating of course, though each trip was more bold than the last. She came just long enough to take what she needed and refill her Estus, then she withdrew again, back to haunting the wastes. She figured it was only fitting a hag like her would behave like such a vulture.

Anne hung her head, staring at her emaciated arms resting on her almost skeletal legs. The thickest part of her was her bloated stomach, her leathery skin chapping each time she rocked in place. Her breath wheezed loudly from her dry mouth, the sparse hair that hadn't peeled off her scalp roughly scratching her gaunt cheeks like straw. At least few would linger on her supremely ugly form, as her figure was so ravaged by exposure one couldn't tell she was a woman once.

She'd shed tears, if only to wash away the sand biting her eyes, but after succumbing to starvation, dehydration, undead hunters, and even greater horrors, her eyes remained permanently dry.

Why am I still alive? Anne asked herself. How was I fortunate enough to hear of the scar in time? How did I die so many times and not hollow? How did I find the strength to carry myself so far? How did I learn to defend myself with such a weak body?

After a point she couldn't remember anything to give her answers. Maybe she didn't want to remember, because everything she remembered brought her despair. All she remembered was being a little girl, barely an adolescent. Dying to something, she couldn't remember, but she came back. When she did, she was driven away.

Ever since then, she wandered. She wandered for decades, died countless times, scavenging and fighting and clawing her way across the land, not knowing why. At this point, it was just one foot in front of the other, just surviving to the next day, and holding onto anything resembling a shred of individuality.

Hope. The word carried warmth in her. She was ready to give up, but the chance of a new beginning, a new world, it gave her hope. She didn't know what lay beyond the ocean, but it couldn't be worse than this.

She patiently watched the sky darken as the hours wore on. When everything settled down, Anne decided now was the time to move. Anne's tattered armor rustled as she stood, the undead hoping it would hold together for the trip. Everything she wore was scavenged, and even when she died and awoke to find it with fresh tears and blood, she kept it for lack of anything to replace it. She used a needle and a few spare threads to patch it together, though her cloth gambeson was threadbare and full of holes. The only thing in the way of sturdiness was an ancient iron breastplate, the rusty, dented plate the only thing between her bosom and everything that wanted to kill her again.

She patted the right leg of her simple trousers, checking to make sure her sword, Estus, and leather sacks full of supplies were still there, as there would be no chance to retrieve them later. She scaled her way down the rubble to the water's edge, feeling the sand filling her boots through the broken soles. Anne resolved that the first thing she was picking up when she got to the new world was a fucking pair of proper shoes.

Her feet kicked up silt as she strode along the waterline, keeping all but her nose and eyes beneath the water to minimize her profile. She found it easier to travel after the waves broke, Anne allowing the water to gently push her feeble body to the side, break, and then calm a moment for her to step forward, her feet bouncing over the ground as she kept this rhythm up.

Soon enough, she was gliding beneath the pier. She flinched at each footstep creaking over her head, and tried to focus on the filthy underside of the planks. Little shafts of moonlight shone through the holes and spaces between planks, the lights blinking out as they were tread on. Anne traced the path of the guards from her hiding place, trying to keep quiet if the dim spots drew too close. Cobwebs and algae were strung between the beams, the undead impatiently swiping them aside while trying not to splash the water, uncaring of any spiders and fish that may bite her. She was shivering violently by the time her destination was in sight, the kilometer trip feeling longer than any other.

The newly reconstructed galleon stood against the cloudy sky, the moonlight giving the vessel a ghostly appearance. The silhouette held dusty sails and skeletal rigging, many pieces and parts nailed down haphazardly to patch the holes and damaged bits. The repairs caused some sections to awkwardly stick out with layers of wood and metal, giving it an asymmetrical slant. It was ugly, but sturdy enough for the job and there was little alternative.

The guards eviscerated anything that posed a threat to the safety of the ships, and suffered no undead thanks to that old superstition the Darksign could be transmitted by simple contact. However, Anne found a single weakness in their security: they focused on ships that were to set sail that day, while the rest were guarded slightly less. There were still men posted, but they rotated less frequently, and there was more time between rotations.

She'd spied on this ship every day, watching the workers restore the vessel to full seafaring strength one piece at a time. The next day, they would put the last of the cargo aboard and the passengers would be allowed on, and it would set sail.

Anne watched the guards step away from the ship, their armor clinking on the boards as they made small talk and headed for the inn for a good night's sleep. Her body screamed with the effort of swimming through the thick water, her lungs burning as salt water was thrown into her gasping mouth, though she refused to slow her pace, even as her arms felt like they had lead weights on them. Anne's quivering hands gripped the edge of the pier. Her blood roared in her ears as she surveyed all the people at their posts or walking around, though none were looking this way.

Anne crawled from the water, grunting with exertion and willing herself to move faster as she slowly rose. Her belly throbbed as she drug it across the planks, the undead clawing her way forward with her emaciated hands. She got to her knees and hastily scurried up the plank, feeling no time to get on her feet as she limped her way up. A single gaunt figure on an otherwise empty ship stuck out against the moonlight like a candle in a black room. If even one person glanced in her direction, it was all over.

She got to the open deck, the pads of her feet sounding like the loudest bells as she kept her eyes over her shoulder, running to where she knew the way down was.

"Now, what you doing in such a hurry at this hour?"

Anne froze, her entire body shaking as she looked forward. She missed one; some new hire that decided to board at an off hour of the night and deny her the window she was counting on. In any case, she was now looking right at a watchman, and he was looking right at her.

He was certainly a strange one, and that was coming from a well-traveled undead. His head was completely bald and slanted forward, his low squat and long, pointy nose giving him the spitting image of a roosting crow. He blended into the background perfectly in his black leather armor, though it was patched with several pads of tan leather and canvas, with a steel pauldron on his left shoulder belted on as an afterthought.

Right next to him were a greatshield and a massive, black halberd, though he didn't reach for either as he eyed her with sly interest. She didn't blame him. Even if she drew her sword, she would barely be a threat to him.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" He taunted. Anne moved her lips and desperately willed them to form words, but no matter how hard she tried, her body refused to behave. The strange man kept talking, "Not much of a talker are you? Well, you look reasonably sane. I take it you want to ride this big, grand old boat to the land beyond the big portal, eh?"

Anne nodded, quivering at his tone,

"Yes, of course, though I'm not sure what you plan to do once you skip over to the other side. You're practically hollow, two feet in the grave, just waiting for the last push." he snickered, "The foreman would be mighty testy to see you skulking about here, but you're in luck! Just between you and me," he said, dropping his voice, "I'm undead too."

She nearly smiled, hoping it showed on her face. The man returned the gesture with a devious smirk, though she believed that was his only expression at this point, "That's right. Come on over, the quarters are just down these stairs." he said, standing up to motion towards them.

Annie walked over, the crow stepping aside for her, "Take care to watch your step, it's mighty treacherous." he snickered. The undead paused, cautiously placing her foot on the top step and realizing just how steep it was as she leaned over for a better look.

She felt a boot dig into her back with incredible force, the kick knocking her from her feet. She went face first into the steps, sending her toppling end over end until she landed at the bottom in a heap. Anne felt her thick blood streaming down her forehead as she stared at the ceiling in shock. She could feel her arm was broken underneath her, though her head was ringing too badly to concentrate on it, the waves of shock making her nauseous.

She could hear the wily bastard calling down, laughing like a hyena, "You hollows never learn to watch where you're standing. You get what you deserve you greedy-guts!"

Anne slowly rolled over, doing everything she could to ignore the pain as she pushed herself up with her good arm. If she got a little distance, maybe she could sip some Estus. She had no idea how to fight a healthy, fully restored undead with her strength reduced to practically nothing, but she had to try. She made it to her feet and limped a few paces, but her side began to feel heavy as her arm limply dangled.

Anne fell against the wall and slid down, smearing blood as she went. The undead caught herself, moaning as she continued limping forward on all fours with an almost insane persistence. The patter of footsteps announced the treacherous dog, the undead looking over her shoulder at the sly devil as he reached her. He stopped short, "What? How are you still conscious? That tumble should have killed you before you reached the bottom."

Anne propped herself against the wall, gazing at him. The crow's expression was replaced by a poor imitation of regret, "Oh, don't look at me that way." he said, "You'll be dead soon enough anyhow, you won't be needing any trinkets once you're hollow."

He was right. Anne's eyes got a little teary as she faced that. She had no chance. Yet some part of her refused to surrender. She stared at him, possessing just enough strength to give a silent plea for mercy.

He met her eye, unwilling to do the deed personally. He finally relented, "Gah. Put down one rotten cleric, and suddenly you're soft for all hollows. Well, that's just fine. You don't have a thing worth taking anyhow."

He started away, but stopped to add, "Oh, and should we ever bump into eachother again, remember that good old Trusty Patches did you a favor, eh? No harsh feelings." Patches finished his ascent thereafter, Anne hesitating as she wondered if he was really gone.

The undead reached to her side and weakly drew her Estus Flask, the liquid flame defying gravity and pooling upwards like rising air as she tipped the jade glass to her lips. The enchantment of the flask drew the broiling liquid fire into her mouth; it was tasteless and scalding hot, but she could feel the warmth remedying her wounds.

She drunk liberally as the wound on her head stopped bleeding and her aching arm and fingers started moving again, her forearm crackling as the bones were pulled together and fused, spreading an itchy, tingly feeling over her thin skin. Even though she still didn't feel well, she denied herself more once her major injuries were gone. She turned the glass in her hand, seeing how much it took to heal a simple head injury and broken arm. It was clear, now more than ever, that Estus wasn't going to be enough to save her withering body soon. Even when she was able to get enough food and water for the day, she continued to wither, all her energy being fed to the Darksign.

Anne, with shaking hands, put her Estus back in her holster, braced her knees, and returned to her unsteady feet. Her breastplate was hanging off her body, the undead looking down and sighing when she saw her tattered armor was even worse now. She didn't have the means to repair the broken loops and torn fabric, so she simply pulled it the rest of the way off and tossed it into a vacant room.

It wasn't going to help her anyway, so she focused on getting into the hold and hiding herself... assuming Patches kept his word and didn't reveal her location. The interior was completely black, so Anne drew her Estus Flask and used the faint flames to guide her way, creeping down the decayed halls of the derelict ship until she reached the lowermost deck.

She stumbled over barrels and crates of varying sizes, looking for a place they wouldn't think to check while keeping anything from getting knocked out of place. Nowhere looked ideal, but she did find a small gap between a set of crates that could conceal her if she squeezed in. She pushed her way into the gap and settled in for the long wait.

High in the Jerall mountains, on an uninhabited icy plateau, a crackling emanated through the thick snow. The large drift cracked open like an eggshell, trapped air hissing as the tips of two great black wings pierced the surface. The World-Eater pried his cramped body from the depths, sheets of ice and snow falling from his scaly hide as he shook himself off. He stretched his wings, legs, and tail. He was more than well-rested, though he felt more agitated than ever.

In his slumber, he dreamt of the dov. He saw how the treacherous jul hunted them down like animals and celebrated their victory over the children of Akatosh. He saw them drive his loyal followers to undeath, cowering in icy tombs to hide from the rest of the world. But the greatest insult of all was how jul forgot dov, and dismissed them as mere legends and fairytales. Alduin's grand legacy, the vast and ages-old culture of the Dragon Cult… all of it passed from memory and was allowed to go to ruin. Now, the foolish traitors wasted their already limited potential on petty squabbles amongst their meager clans and families, spilling their own blood in the name of false thur.

Alduin tested his great black wings, an overwhelming sense of liberation filling him as he took to the air at long last. The trees passed beneath him faster and faster as Alduin picked up momentum. After gliding a fair distance down the mountain, he leveled off and soared above Mundus with speed, his body flexing as he caught the prevailing winds to hasten his trip. How fitting the World-Eater would be among the first dovah in five-thousand years to take flight, in this age of unbelief. The wind roared over his ears and raked down his face, his sharp eyes scanning the countryside beneath him, focused but calm.

The mighty World-Eater had no intention of squandering this opportunity.

The jul lived in blissful denial of the dov; a sense of false security to help their children rest easier at night, and their warriors walk the ground without gazing at the skies in fear. Alduin announced his presence with multiple triumphant roars, his voice echoing over the mountains for miles, resonating through the trees and valleys. He would remind them of the dov, he would burn it into the lands with fire from the sky and rivers of jul blood running across the ground. This day, and every day after, the shadow of the dov would inspire terror in the hearts of all joor once again.

Alduin rode for several hours, his burning red eyes settling on a large town. It wasn't quite a kingdom, but the array of large stone buildings across the valley was large enough to be easily spotted from the air. He descended rapidly, his thu'um coming out as a whisper, "laas yah nir." The flickering auras of thousands flooded his vision, the World-Eater spotting an especially large congregation near a large tower.

He was truly favored by fate this day, for a more perfect stage to make his grand entrance could not be asked for. Alduin swooped onto the tower, rubble breaking off the battery as his claws dug into the rotunda. The suddenness scattered the jul below him as Alduin's piercing gaze swept over the display, the tower creaking under his feet.

He could see the headsman's block at his feet, a prisoner in ratty armor writhing on the ground as his executioner retreated with fear. There were others too. All who donned a blue garb over their shoulder were in binds, while their executioners wore clean leathers with faint red highlights. Their banners evoked his father's image, the scarlet standards hanging from the dwellings and towers as if to claim they were protected by the father of dov.

Again, it was Alduin who was favored with an audience from all sides of their petty war.

His address was plain, "Zu'u lost daal." Alduin's thu'um cracked like thunder, summoning a great vortex that blotted out the sun. Burning stones that carried the reek of sulfur rained down, the terrified joore scattering from him as the burning stones went screaming into the dwellings like cannon fire. Above the cracks of thunder and roar of meteors Alduin's voice could be heard clearly as he boasted, "Kel drey ni viik. Zu'u Alduin, zok sahrot do naan ko Lein, hin kah fen kos bonaar!"

He took to wing again, their pathetic arrows glancing harmlessly off his flesh. There was a man in gold riding through the flames on horseback, his shouts and gestures rallying the troops to fire upon Alduin. The World-Eater would spare that one, and the others standing above the nameless sheep. He would leave them to witness.

Alduin breathed in, exhaling rays of lightning. The beam tore through the building in front of him, the bricks shattering into molten, red-hot chunks as he swept the ray to the side, tracing a line of destruction across the way. The row of stone dwellings toppled like weeds before him, kicking up dust and rubble that silenced many prisoners left to die by their captors. Alduin soared down the streets, where numerous scurrying jul were trampling eachother to escape. Many were struck by the falling stones, the meteors leaving great, smoking craters and gore wherever they made landfall.

"Yol," he inhaled deeply, his throat filling with flames. Alduin exhaled a tempest of searing blue fire that flooded the roads below him. The smell of burning flesh teased his nostrils, reminding him how long it'd been since he'd feasted on joor flesh, but there would be time for that later as singed joorre scattered to the sides, their skin turning luscious shades of violet, black, and red as they pulled the burning garbs off their bodies, many more convulsing on the ground and succumbing moments later.

The heavens calmed briefly as the meteors were depleted, but that was far from all the World-Eater had to throw into the pandemonium below him. He shouted once more into the sky, each sharp word shaking Nurn and echoing over the mountain, "Strun! Bah! Qo!"

The sky wept torrents of rain, but there was no relief as the heavens lit up with a dazzling web of lighting. There were no screams this time. All who were struck died a nearly instant death, metal fixtures and objects on the ground heating up as thunderbolts arced over them. That which didn't turn to ashes silently fell over, smoldering as the living fled Alduin's wrath.

The World-Eater made several more passes with his flames, the barrage of lightning and fire upon the ruined city making the holocaust absolute. After mere minutes, his aural whisper revealed only the faintest worms hiding underground or in the hills. Alduin would not have this tale go unspoken and called off the storms and the flame. He made a final tour of his works as he circled away, the clouds parting overhead to allow lonely shafts of daylight through.

The sun revealed a city reduced to a blasted, burning husk. A great cloud of smoke drifted on the winds, marking the gravesite to any near the mountains. Alduin was pleased. It was a petty and insignificant skirmish, but it was enough to send his message to all the world.

The flight from Jerall to Velothi was many days by wing. Once he entered the mountains, Alduin followed the winding path of sheer cliffs and caves that composed the secret ascent to Skuldafn. Only the absolute most veteran and loyal members of Alduin's court were allowed to reside here. Not even Paarthurnax knew its exact location, a fact he'd never been more thankful for.

As Alduin crested the plateau, he was met by the refreshing sight of his most important citadel intact. It was a little worn due to sheer age and lack of resources- a problem Alduin could remedy with his thu'um-, but otherwise it was as he remembered it. The foundation was long, flat, and round, filling the space between the mountain peaks and spanning three levels of ground. All the dwellings, storehouses, and arches on the ground level were built with perfect symmetry, leading the eye to the first great wall at the back.

Upon this second terrace was the royal district reserved for his clergy and most favored followers. Above that, on the acropolis, was Alduin's overlook. It was a great throne room with an open face, granting a perfect view of the mountains below.

The crown jewel of his castle shone so brightly it resembled a star. Pulled from Aetherius at the end of the last world, it was a titanic soulgem that didn't house a single soul, rather cycled power from Mundus to Sovngarde and back again. It powered the portal in Alduin's throne room below it, a beacon of the World-Eater's inexorable dominion over the souls of the dead.

Three rings, three tiers, with everyone occupying their proper place; he on the top, watching over all else and closest to Sovngarde, while his servants occupied the base to protect them. All the central space was open and flat, allowing the dov to meet and mingle with him at their leisure, while the jul were interned to the fringe, forming a crescent of dwellings enclosing his forum.

As Alduin expected, his entrance was met by a grand party. The World-Eater landed on the central path running up the sanctuary, flanked by loyal servants and several dov who let up a chant to honor him as the World-Eater made his way to the overlook. He'd prefer to fly, but they needed recognition for their efforts.

The World-Eater looked side to side, pitying the jul's sad state as their cheering grew to deafening levels, their feet like thunder on the ground as they anxiously shuffled in place. They could unnaturally extend their fragile lives, but they would never know eternal strength like the dov did. Their ceremonial steel armor and weapons, once the pride of Tamriel, had rusted to a deep black hue that effaced most of the finer engravings and details. Their breath was cold and wheezy, each movement of their exposed teeth stretching the grey skin over their desiccated faces, while their eyes shone through their horned-helms with unnatural blue light.

Their flesh was burned by the cold, although the army still looked as impressive and menacing as it did millennia ago, the assembly standing straight-backed and proud in formation. Perhaps they would prove useful, afterall it would be a shame to assemble his armies from nothing. There was nothing he couldn't vanquish, but even Alduin couldn't be everywhere at once.

The World-Eater progressed through Skuldafn, the crowd going quiet as Alduin reached his waiting gatekeeper at the foot of the acropolis. His posture was perfectly straight and composed; even his breathing was subdued to prevent it from causing offense. His profile was slightly taller than the ancient Bron surrounding him, accentuated by a black cloak billowing around him like furled wings. The priest mask granted to him was built for battle, such that it could hardly be called a mask. Rather, it was an enchanted, many-horned ebony helm with white and fainter strokes of red around his narrow eyes.

That dov aspect, along with the lavish silver and gold adornments on his neck and cape, would have been too grandiose for a mere servant if it were anyone but him. Nahkriin bowed and greeted him in Dovahzul, "*Welcome home, my overlord."

Alduin was disappointed to hear his fine voice so raspy and feeble, but responded, "*You never fail to impress me with your devotion and forethought, Nahkriin. It pleases me to return to a throne well-tended."

"*You're too kind. I'm certain you're famished after being away so long, but before you return to Sovngarde to feed," Nahkriin said, his intuition impeccable as always, "*I feel it is most urgent to inform you the world is not as you remember it, if you will allow me."

"*You've never given me cause to doubt your judgement, Nahkriin. Speak."

"*Me and my fellow Priests awaited your return. To weather the millennia, we took power from the gateway and spread it to consecrated grounds across the land, granting us unnaturally long lives. This you know. However, in the time I was sleeping, some of the loyal dov grew restless, and wished to hasten your return." Alduin raised his brows as Nahkriin continued, "*They wished to channel the very same power used to cast you out, and were successful in finding an Elder Scroll and the means to use it, though it was lost in the process. I awoke when I sensed you falling through one of the time scars they created."

"*Yes, good." Alduin said, "*I don't care how you accomplished such a task, all that matters is you were successful. But," he added sternly, "*What do you mean 'one of'?"

Nahkriin bowed his head, Alduin prepared to hear something unfavorable as the gatekeeper spoke, "*The dov, and our master wizards, were so enthused by the chance to return you to our time, they grew reckless. They did not take proper precautions in handling the Elder Scroll and channeling its powers. They were able to exploit the time scar and pry it open, but it was a job done too well."

Alduin needed no further explanation, instead asking, "*How many?"

"*I don't know." Nahkriin said, "*The flow of time has become… convoluted. Timescars are appearing everywhere, opening and closing with no discernable order. And there is the rift over the Sea of Ghosts; a scar unlike anything we've seen before, but it's stable. So stable, in fact, mysterious beings from another time- perhaps even another plane of Nirn- have been passing through."

"*Are the scars a threat to Nirn?"

"*No," Nahkriin answered, Alduin relieved as the gatekeeper elaborated, "*The smaller scars are vanishing with no noticeable damage left behind, and the rift is a simple doorway for now. Time has been disrupted, but ripples are not enough to break an ocean. The only threat we may encounter are beings from this other world, but I doubt they rival your power, my overlord."

"*I doubted that jul could best me in battle, and I was proven wrong," Alduin scoffed, "*I want to know more about this place."

"*I am glad you say so. Fortunately, Skuldafn is presently entertaining a guest who may have the answers you seek."

Alduin seethed, but measured his response to that, "*You invited an outsider to Skuldafn?"

"*No. He found us."

"*And was able to reach this sanctuary? Impossible."

"*I could not believe it either. According to this… serpent, it's been dead for over 200 years and found Skuldafn by following the trail of souls. Were it under any other circumstance, I would have struck it down without hesitation. However, it's intelligent, and very knowledgable of the other world. I believed it wise to let you speak with it, may it fall on my head should that prove unwise."

Alduin pondered the idea, nodding, "*Yes, I will feast after I have spoken with it, though I foresee a long discussion with this snake, as you call it. After you have shown me to him," he added, Nahkriin quietly guiding him, "*I want you to send forth all my loyal dov, tell them to bear this message to all my followers. I shall make it simple,"

"*Of course, my overlord. What is your message?"

Alduin looked past Nahkriin, into the horizon of this new world, "*Prepare."

A/N:

Okay, so I'm terrible at keeping promises. So here is the first chapter. Based on the time it took me to write it, if I focus on just this fic, it'll be about 1-2 weeks per chapter if I can keep my schedule up, and I'm really determined to do just that.

After reading the old version and cringing to death, I decided I simply must put the rewrite out there ASAP, cuz I'm terrible. Reviews are welcome, so are views, whatever is your thing. Sample Text. Bai.