A/N Thank you all so much for reading my work, and thank you to those who reviewed. It means a lot to me. I'll try to regularly update, but I do have exams coming up, but I will try my best.

The Hall of the Elements was filled with jostling people, each pushing, shoving and craning to try and see why they had all been summoned there. All different kinds of mages stood around the hall looking inwards at the magicka fountain, whose power spiralled upwards in a great twisting blue beam. The high windows let in little light, as the grey clouds that fuelled the blizzard outside blocked almost all light from the sun, but the room was not dark as orbs of white light, which the Alterationists liked to remind everyone was their idea, stood underneath each window on small pillars. The robes and sashes of each individual created a myriad of colours across the room. The robes represented their proficiency, from the icy blue and white novice robes, to the purple and burgundy master robes, and the sashes showed what school they belonged to. When Fornice became Arch-Mage, she decided that the different schools of magic needed more focus, so she devised a system where every member was to state their preference, and they would belong to that school, meaning there was a more orderly system to learning and teaching, but it did spark up a rivalry every now and then. Destruction students believing they're superior, and Alteration students paralyzing the lot of them. It was a great source of amusement and drama for most members of the College.

By the doorway, the grey-robed Librarians stood between a group of green sashed Illusionists and blue sashed Conjurers. They wanted to be here less than most, because they had just received a First Edition of Calcelmo of Markarth's Guide to the Falmer. The Falmer were constant pests in Winterhold, so understanding them more could save the lives of many a wandering mage.

As the Librarians grumbled to each other, and the Destruction students created element pillars, and the Alterationists cast great balls of light across the room, the door to the Arch-Mage's Quarters swung open, and Fornice stepped forward into the crowd. Those who noticed her politely stepped out of the way, but she had to gentley guide her way through a clump of Librarians in a heated debate over a new shelf filled with Argonian cookery books.

The centre of the room was devoid of all people, so one by one the people in the room went silent as Fornice took slow, gliding steps across the hall. Her blue velvet cloak shimmered and swayed with each step, and the snow fox fur on her hood ruffled in the drafts blowing around the room. She lifted her robes to show plain white boots as she stepped up onto the raised dais that the fountain stood upon.

''My friends.'' Her voice echoed around the room. It bounced off of pillars, walls, floors and ceilings until it sounded like she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. She waited a few moments for he echo to subside, until there was complete silence. No one dared to breath. Everyone was waiting. She looked around, smiling at the array of different views and cultures in the College. Her College. Pride swelled within her, at everything she and her colleagues had achieved. This morning she had received a letter, delivered by a frightened young boy, and the letter couldn't have contained better news.

''Winterhold is alive. Ever since the Great Collapse, our great city ceased to be. Overnight, three of the city's five districts tumbled into the sea, taking its citizens with it. Only the Gate District and the College remained, and that is all you see now. Our city never rebuilt itself. It stagnated. For eighty years the city has only gotten worse. You can see the empty shells of abandoned houses where citizens have left this desolate corner of the world, but it has changed. For the first time in seventy years, Winterhold has a Thane.'' This caused a wave of whispers to spread across the room. This was huge news. Despite the College being distanced from the town, everyone wanted it to grow. The people of Winterhold blamed the Great Collapse on the College, seeing as it was the one of the few buildings left standing when all others around it collapsed into the sea. The mages insisted that the College survived because of ancient protective magics, and that the Great Collapse most likely happened due to Red Mountain on Vvardenfell erupting, causing far reaching consequences, but the locals, in their grief stricken state, held the College responsible, and the relationship has never been fixed since. Having a Thane meant that Winterhold might at long last be recovering. If the town were to be rebuilt, then the mages may no longer be shunned or feared, but celebrated and rejoiced.

''The letter held more news than that. It spoke of an opportunity we have to rebuild our relationship with the town.'' At this, Fornice pulled out an envelope from a fold in her robes. She flipped it open and pulled out a dull piece of parchment. She cleared her throat and read,

''Fornice Draconis.

I, as your Jarl, feel obliged to inform you that I have bestowed the honour of Thane upon one Hoarik Forge-Blazer. He managed to return to me the Helm of Winterhold, an artifact lost for centuries, maybe millennia. He also tracked down the Wispmother attacking the few travellers that brave the hold to get to our city, and stabbed a sword right through her.

Winterhold has little cause to celebrate, so I have taken this as an excuse to host a rather auspicious festival in the Jarl's Longhouse on Turdas 18th of First Seed. Every citizen of Winterhold is invited, though I would much prefer it if you and Tolfdir were the only representatives of the College.

Jarl Korir of Winterhold.''

There were several shouts of outrage amongst the crowd, especially from the more boisterous members of the Destruction school.

''What have we ever done to him?'' Shouted out one member.

''We have as much right to be there as the rest, that pompous stuck up-''

''Enough! I know the letter unfairly states that only Tolfdir and I should attend, but it also says every citizen of Winterhold is welcome, so I want as many of us as possible there, but I swear, if any of you make a fool of themselves, or shine a bad light on the College, you shall not be allowed back inside the gates. Do I make myself clear?'' Everyone responded with quiet mumbles of agreement. ''Good. We need to prove to the people, especially Jarl Korir, that the College isn't something to be shunned or feared, but something to be rejoiced and respected. If we pull this off, then who knows how much we could do with this place. Imagine the business opportunities, the wealth. We could at long last repair the bridge, if you want to start thinking small. Now, that festival is this evening, for those who hadn't noticed. I'm sure sending the letter on the same day as the event was another of Jarl Korir's ploys to get less of us to go, so we need to get ready. Everyone who wants to attend, get ready and make your way to the town post haste.'' With that, Fornice stepped down from the dais, and the members started to file out of the room, talking avidly about the festival. Some, namely the Librarians, thought it was a terrible idea, and were more inclined to stay and bustle through their collections. Others, like the younger students, couldn't wait to leave the College. It was a rare occasion that anyone went across the bridge and into the town, so this was very exciting for them, and nobody wanted to miss out.

Peric stood in front of the tall mirror in his room, trying to get his emerald coloured sash to fit. No matter how hard he tried, the thing would either suffocate him, or slip off his shoulder and on to the floor. He finally managed to do a decent job, and turned to the side to admire his handiwork. You'd think after a year of doing this, I'd be able to get the hang of it, he thought to himself. He usually got Brelyna to do it for him, but she was busy getting herself ready. He straightened his autumnal robes and smiled at his reflection. His sash clashed wonderfully with the burnt orangey-brown of his robes, much like a tree just at the turning days of Summer into Autumn. His dark brown hair fell to one side, covering one of his equally deep brown eyes. He didn't look much different from most Bretons, but he decided he did a pretty good job with what he had to work with.

''Peric, are you done yet? Onmund and I are waiting. J'zargo left without us, but that cat can freeze on that bridge on his own.'' Peric sighed at the way his friend called after him. Brelyna Maryon was one of his closest friends, yet she did get on his nerves with her constant shouting across the dorm. He glanced round his room to see if he had forgotten anything. He took great pride in his very own little section of the College. His wooden bed was covered with a wolf skin, and another one acted as a rug on the cold, grey floor. A rusty chandelier filled with half melted candles hung from the ceiling, which cast flickering light across the room. A bookshelf in one corner held mostly a collection of oddities and rare ingredients for potions, as well as little knick-knacks and trinkets. An old wardrobe stood in one corner, which contained his spare robes, as well as his more casual clothing. The part he looked after most was his little desk. Inkwells, quills, parchment, paper and charcoal were all neatly arranged around the desk, along with a small pile of papers that were comprised of his research notes on how Illusion spells actually affect living organisms. He shook himself out of his wondering, and he grabbed his satchel that contained his coin purse, dagger and a few potions and walked out of his room.

''I'm ready, don't get all panicky. We're gonna be too early if you make us rush any more.'' He stopped when he saw Brelyna with her eyebrows raised and arms crossed in front of him. Her dark blue Dunmer skin contrasted shockingly with her glowing red eyes that pierced into him. She had curled her black hair, and it fell down to her upper back. It was a rare thing to see her hair, as she usually liked it to be covered by her hood, whose colour incidentally matched her skin. Her yellow Alteration sash was contrasted by her deep blue robes, and her white boots looked almost comical in comparison. Behind her, Onmund stood amused at Brelyna's impatience. Onmund was an oddity also. Not many young Nords studied magic, but he was exiled by his family for following his dream. Behind his cheery face and rosy cheeks, there was much pain, guilt, remorse and regret, yet Peric had only gotten him to talk about it once before.

''Are we going to go or what?'' Asked Onmund, laughing as Brelyna flustered, before she recovered and strode out the door.

The courtyard was filled with mages of all stripes battling the blizzard that howled through the College. Although it was only dusk, the clouds blocked out all sunlight, and only the artificial orbs of white light that dotted the campus, as well as more temporary ones that the mages had summoned, lit the way.

''By The Nine, I didn't expect it to be this bad!'' Onmund tried to shout over the wind, but the other two could barely hear him. They decided to make a run through the curved cloister that circled the snow covered courtyard. A magicka fountain like the one in the Hall of the Elements stood in the centre, but was shadowed by a tall statue of a mage with his arms in the air, like he was summoning the beam of magic from the blue pool bellow. His cloak billowed outwards, like the gale was affecting him just like the living mages.

The bridge was almost invisible to the mages. They had to walk at a snails pace just to make sure they didn't fall off the edge, as parts of the sides had collapsed into the sea bellow. Three tiny magicka fountains dotted the bridge, acting as beacons to warn you when there was a turn. It took Onmund, Brelyna and Peric half an hour, but they eventually stepped onto the slick cobbles of the road that ran through what was left of Winterhold.

''Come on las, get ya' act together. We got people to serve.'' This was the first thing that greeted Onmund, Brelyna and Peric as the walked into the Jarl's Longhouse. The man was a short dunmer with jet black hair, Malur Seloth, the Jarl's steward. He seemed to be shouting at a buxom bar maid with a tower of drinks precariously balanced on her arm. She wobbled over to a group of senior mages sitting at a table in one corner.

The Longhouse was filled with as much life and energy as a dying town could provide. As soon as the trio walked through the door, they were hit by a wave of noise. Hundreds of people shouting over each other to be heard left little room in their heads to even think. Everybody, even the stodgiest master was enjoying themselves. Only three faces weren't smiling, and all three were up at the far end of the Longhouse. Past the scorching fire pit, underneath the bell tower, sitting underneath the mounted mammoth skulls, were three figures. Each of them mumbling to each other, but not one sported a smile, not even a grin or a smirk. Jarl Korir's long, nordic red hair and trimmed beard framed a solemn and weary face. Lines creased his skin. Onmund didn't want to think how many of them were a mark of a heavy mind, than actual age. Thick eyebrows furrowed above perfectly blue eyes, dull and dead, like the land he ruled over. His attire stood out from others, because of its obvious expense. Fiery sabre cat pelts lined the fine silk and tundra cotton jacket, dyed with deep blue and dusky browns. Worn boots swallowed the hem of his specially tailored trousers. He represented the very image of wealth in the charade of society. To his left sat Fornice, her long brown curls bounced with every move of her head. She seemed to be trying to convince Jarl Korir of something, but his dull expression made it clear he wasn't paying attention. Throughout their conversation, Fornice would take small sips from a goblet of wine, but as her persuading drew on, her sips became gulps, and her goblet became four, until she gave Korir up as a lost cause and turned away from him, her arms crossed over her midnight blue robes, her pink lips pursed into a scowl, and her pale Breton features slightly creased in annoyance.

''Hey, Peric, stop staring at the important people, and lets grab a table.'' Brelyna grabbed Peric's arm and sat him down by a tiny, worn pathetic excuse for a table. He snatched a plate of beef and an ale before looking at the third character. He was of the greatest interest to him, as very few new faces were seen around Winterhold. The man was obviously a Nord, by his extremely pale skin and lips, watery blue eyes and long braided blonde hair. His body was encased in a suit of dented and worn iron armour. Only his pale face and muscular arms showed. Peric rightly assumed that this man was Hoarik Forge-Blazer, the Thane of Winterhold.

''You know, I think Winterhold may actually be going somewhere now,'' said Onmund, raising a tankard to his lips.

''Yeah, soon we'll be just as rich and respected as Dawnstar,'' said Brelyna.

''I wouldn't say soon, but one day we'll be listened to,'' said Peric.

''Winterhold isn't that bad. I mean, we don't starve, and we aren't constantly under attack like some holds are. We can look after ourselves, and we're well defensible,'' Brelyna sat up when she said this, and you could almost see the pride radiate off her.

''I suppose you're right. We could be like Hjaalmarch, after all,'' said Peric.

''I've got an aunt who lives there. She sometimes sends me letters, and that place sounds horrible. No one ventures out onto the marshes there, but no one has to, the marshes venture into Morthal. That's where she lives, you see. It's the only thing representing a capital they have. Why they built a town on the edge of a marsh, I'll never know. They have to fight against disease, poverty and all sorts of nasty creatures just to make it through the day,'' said Onmund.

''If it's so bad there, why doesn't she just leave?'' Asked Peric.

''Trust me, she's thought about it, but she says it's her home, and she can't abandon it now. Every letter tells of something else the guards have to fight. Frostbite spiders, Chaurus, Mudcrabs, Wolves. Everything wants a piece of Morthal, but that's not the worst of it. The last one she sent spoke of something much worse.'' Peric and Brelyna leaned forward in anticipation.

''Vampires.''

''No!'' Shouted Peric and Brelyna together.

''Yes. She told me that all but two of the guards were having to defend the lumber mill. That's their only real source of income, and they couldn't afford to lose that to the blood suckers.''

''But where did they come from?'' Asked Brelyna.

''That's the real mystery. One day, the citizens were woken up to the sound of the war horns. They ran out their houses to see mass panic. Guards charging to meet a dozen monsters in robes, blood dripping from their razor like maws and evil black eyes filled with hunger and rage. If there's one good thing about Morthal, it's that the guards, after having to fight off almost every enemy imaginable, are one of the most powerful fighting forces in Skyrim. They only lost two men fighting the vampires, but Jarl Idgrod said that was partly due to them being in sunlight, and she was right. That night, another eight of the creatures came, but the town mage was there to help, and they only lost one guard. My aunt managed to send the letter to me after about a week of this happening every night. During the day the guards build more and more defences round the mill, and the mage puts up magical barriers, and so far they haven't lost many more men, but as far as I know, it's still going on. They sent pleas to Whiterun, Solitude and Dawnstar, and all of them said they couldn't spare any men.'' Onmund sat back and drained his tankard.

''That's horrible. Why don't they find the lair and wipe them out, though? It would save them a lot of time, money and men,'' said Brelyna.

''I dunno. I guess they're not willing to risk most of the towns guards. Anyway, I'm worried about her, but I don't like thinking about it, so can we talk about something else?''

''Well, I heard the College got broken into recently,'' said Brelyna.

''Brelyna, everyone has heard about the College getting broken into, but it's not that big a deal. They were caught and are now locked away inside The Chill, poor sods,'' said Peric.

''Yeah, but-''

''I have an announcement to make, so may I have silence please.'' The three turned to see Jarl Korir standing in front of his throne. His jacket hung by his sides, swaying in the drafts blowing around the Longhouse. ''As you all know, this is a big day for Winterhold, and I hope all of you are as delighted as I am to welcome this man,'' he gestured towards Hoarik, ''Into our little town.'' He stepped aside while everyone applauded, and Hoarik took his place.

''Thank you, all of you.'' His voice was deep and husky, and Peric noticed Brelyna give a little shiver. ''I've never really had a home. I've been travelling, hiring myself out as a mercenary, but then I stumbled upon this little town, with its bitter cold air, but warm, open people, and I knew that this is where I shall spend my days. Despite me now calling Winterhold home, I have never visited the College of Winterhold, but I will do whatever I can to help you. In fact, this evening I made an agreement with your Arch-Mage that regular guard patrols shall pass through the College, seeing as Jarl Korir has given me free control over Winterhold's guards.'' Peric saw Jarl Korir cross his arms at these words, and Korir's ever downcast features turned into an outright scowl. Peric smiled at the look on Korir's face. The Jarl of Winterhold had only ever looked out for the town, and had gone so far as to shun and reject the College. Peric liked this new Thane. He was not from Winterhold, so he was not affected by old hurts and grudges. A good sign, to be sure. ''To help this town grow, I shall spend what money I have saved over the years to build a smithy here. It'll help to make things to export, so we can finally have an economy. Thank you.'' He stepped back next to Korir, and everyone applauded loudly. They all took very kindly to Hoarik Forge-Blazer, as everyone in that room could see he would bring prosperity to Winterhold.

Fornice looked down from her place next to Korir at the people, half of whom were her people. She was usually a happy woman, always with a smile on her face, and she would always greet any passing mage she saw around the College, but during the end of the evening in the Longhouse, her expression suddenly dropped to one of despair and worry. One of the mages at the College, a Battlemage that had spent her life training to fight with sword and magic had ran down from the College, entered the Longhouse and had whispered into Fornice's ear. ''They have escaped. The thief mages have blasted through The Chill. We found the remains of two of them, but there was no sign of the third. We presume he's headed toward Solitude. He may even have reached it now.''

Those words were perhaps the worst she could possibly hear. She turned white and started shaking, and for the duration of the two men's speeches, she just stood there, staring, but she knew she had to pull herself together, that she could not show her fear, so she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and stepped forward.

''College mages, as you know, we have not had a head of Alteration for quite a while now, and I have decided that tonight I shall announce my choice. I must say the choice was rather easy, once I thought about it. I know that all of you working in Alteration are skilled and talented, but one of you expressed the flare of passion and creativity that is required in a leader, so can we all congratulate our new head of Alteration, Brelyna Maryon.''

Silence. One by one, the room turned to look at Brelyna, who sat with her mouth open, eyes unblinking. Onmund gave her a quick nudge and a smile which brought her out of her daze. Just like Fornice, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and stood up. She slowly, so very slowly made her way to the throne. Across the room, scattered applause was heard, which soon spread, until the entire Longhouse was filled with claps, cheers and whistles, especially from Peric and Onmund who had decided to climb on top of the table.

Me? Why me? I mean, I'm not complaining, but I'm sure there are better. I suppose my treatise on mage armour and its connection to wards was rather good, but a 'flare of passion and creativity'? No, she can't be right, can she? Oh look, I'm almost there. I wonder what I'll have to do now. Wow, head of a school at nineteen. Only Fornice ever managed that. Maybe that's why she chose me, because she doesn't want to be alone. No, that's silly. Wait, are they clapping for me. Don't blush, don't blush, don't blush.

Damn.

Well, I guess I should enjoy it. A life of boring meetings and minor rabble handling for me.

''Ladies and gentlemen, this girl shined a light on the proper uses of Alteration. She didn't drone on about how it could theoretically produce x, or under circumstances make y happen. No, she showed us how it can be used, how it can benefit lives of hundreds. She will go on to lead the way, and I couldn't have made a better choice.''

Brelyna walked back across the Longhouse. This time, she was not accompanied by applause, but the sound of people whispering and muttering filled the room. Fornice was still very white, but doing the speech made her calmer than before, and plans to cover up everything were already whirring through her mind.

''YOL.''

Everyone in the room went deathly silent as the shout, that one word, joined by a screech and the beating of wings, drove fear through everybody's hearts. The whole room was lit up by the light of the most intense inferno, as it burned at the other side of town. Suddenly, a guard burst in. His pale blue armour was torn and singed, and he sported a nasty dent on his helmet. In his strong Nordic voice, he managed to pant out one word, the word they all dreaded.

''Dragon.''