In all his fifty years of existence, he had never once felt the undeniable warmth of a molten orb upon his flesh. He had never seen a sky, or tasted air perfumed with the scent of earth after a rain. He had never beheld the beauty of the stars scattered across a dark blanket, or watched in awe as the Spirit Lights twined around one another above his head.
But he had heard of it.
Aphra would spin pictures out of the darkness around them, telling him about how, when the sky was cloudy, the sun would push through and force its glow through the thin edges of them. She told him of cold winds that tore through the mountainous region above them, of fields of 'snow' that covered the ground at all times. She would tell him of vast expanses of water that stretched out past the horizon, of floating chunks of frozen water.
Although he knew she was truly content so far beneath the surface, a faint trace of longing would lace her voice.
It had always inspired a sense of wonder in him. What could be so wonderful, so different and strange, that it would make even Aphra wish for it? She was a quiet, solemn Bosmer-and she loved their subterranean world of glowing blues and greens. The black rock and golden alloys of ancient Dwemer ruins were home to her, just as much as they were home to him. The rivers glowing a soft blue and the otherworldly echo of scarlet plants were part of her, as they were part of him.
It had come as a shock to realize he desired to leave as well.
So, despite the rage blossoming in his chest as he fled, he knew he wasn't as furious as he could have been. The Dwemer Ruins had suddenly come to life, Blackreach lit with strange light and foreign sound.
The Dwarves had awakened.
In moments, the Falmer had been chased out of Blackreach, Chaurus and other unsavory creatures slaughtered and bodies disposed of. The Dwarven mechanisms had then turned their attention to him-and Aphra.
She clung to him, face buried in his leathery skin as he rocketed through the twisting halls of a Dwemer ruin, wings tight against his body until he came into an open space. Behind him, something big was after them.
He'd kill every last breathing being in Blackreach if they so much as singed a hair on Aphra's head.
"Xoatholin, I remember this place-" Aphra's tone was sharp, urgent.
"You know how to get to the surface?" He regretted speaking-his voice was too quiet to be heard. But Aphra nodded against his back.
"Left, then up." He was beginning to tire, he realized, as he sharply turned to obey Aphra. He barely missed slamming into the wall, long talons gouging out long strips into the halls. But he didn't falter in his pace. He couldn't see anything but vague blurry shapes, but up ahead, he could see a bright light. Aphra's gentle pressure on his back, the heat pressing against the tip of his tail, urged him on. He ducked his head and slammed into a pair of massive double doors, both made of a strong Dwemer alloy.
They burst open, and a light more intense than anything he'd ever known shattered him.
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