Chapter two: Attacked

College of Winterhold, Winterhold

Onmund was sitting on a bench in the Hall of the Elements, watching J'zargo and Brelyna do what he himself was actually supposed to do as well. The trio had just been taught a spell that allowed them to create a fireball, which exploded upon impact with an object or person once fired. Tolfdir was against the idea of teaching them, until Faralda reminded him that they needed to learn combat spells sooner or later – and if they weren't taught, the students would somehow get a spell tome eventually, which would likely lead to even more chaos.

Tolfdir – and elderly Nord wizard who reluctantly accepted the title of Arch-Mage after the actual candidate had refused it – had grumbled some incoherent protests before stating that someone had to keep watch when the students would practice the spell, and the other scholars – including Faralda, teacher in Destruction magic – had agreed on that.

J'zargo had been more eager than ever when he was told the news. Onmund and Brelyna had been excited as well, glad that they finally were going to learn something other than Restoration magic (much to Colette Marence's annoyance). Onmund had become tired rather quickly, however, and he could see that his fellow students were running out of Magicka too.

Brelyna eventually gave up and chose to sit next to Onmund on the bench, looking at J'zargo, who was still firing fireballs. His pace had slowed down drastically – likely due to his Magicka shortage – but this didn't stop the competitive Khajiit from showing off.

"I have to admit, he is pretty diligent," Onmund said as he looked at J'zargo. Brelyna nodded.

"Vonkur was still the best, though…" she mumbled.

Onmund turned his head in her direction, smirking a little. "You mean his magic or personality?" he teased. The female Dunmer next to him froze immediately, her face turning a little pink.

"M-magic," she quickly said, making Onmund chuckle more.

"You sure?" he asked, still smirking. "I think he was a great guy. He helped me get my amulet back." The young mage looked back at J'zargo. "He even helped Mr. Big Ego here."

Brelyna giggled. Fortunately for both of them, the explosions J'zargo's fireballs caused blocked the remark from reaching the Khajiit's ears. He was arguably the most skilled student of the College, second only to Vonkur.

Vonkur – who had later revealed himself to be Dragonborn – was indeed exceptionally gifted. Everyone knows that becoming a master mage would usually take years, if not decades. Vonkur became one after just over one year, eventually learning spells beyond even the skills of the College's scholars. He was a prodigy, yet he was modest, having willingly helped the other students with their problems or experiments and having refused the title of Arch-Mage – much to the Psijic Order's dismay – allowing Tolfdir to rise to the rank instead.

The Dragonborn had then left the College in search of adventure and problems to solve like he had always done. The others tried to convince him to stay, saying that saving the world from Alduin's maw, destroying the group of shadowy assassins known as the Dark Brotherhood and preventing the first, power-mad Dragonborn from returning to rule Tamriel and brainwash or kill its people were enough good deeds for twenty lifetimes. Vonkur had disagreed, however, stating that there was always more to be done, and that he couldn't stand by while Skyrim destroyed itself after Alduin and Miraak had that opportunity taken away from them.

"Really a shame that he left…" Onmund mumbled, suddenly serious. The powerful yet selfless Vonkur had proven to be a good friend to all of them – even Tolfdir, whose alembic would've stayed lost were it not for the Dragonborn's help. He even risked his life trying to get Enthir to give Onmund back his amulet, J'zargo, whose magical scrolls put the user more in danger than its supposed victims, and Brelyna, when she needed someone willing to be a test subject for a spell she was practicing.

The door to the Hall of the Elements suddenly opened, revealing Nirya. She was out of breath, and hastily entered the room. Faralda – who had been assigned to watch the three students – gave the intruder a confused look, with Onmund, Brelyna and J'zargo doing the same. Nirya, a rather ambitious and overly confident Altmer woman who seems to have a beef with Faralda and a talent of self-promotion that could rival J'zargo's ego, glared in return, still trying to catch her breath.

"I'm sure you have a good reason as to why you're intruding my lessons," Faralda calmly said. Nirya's glare only intensified in response before she started speaking.

"Winter…hold…is under…attack…" she panted. "Black…knight…"

The eyes of everybody else in the room widened and a silence fell, with Nirya's gradually steadying breath being the only noise.

"What?" Onmund suddenly said. "What do you mean, a 'black knight'?"

"Someone in black armor is killing everybody," Nirya deadpanned. "Is that enough information?"

"We need to do something!" Brelyna said in an alarmed voice. Faralda looked at her and the other students.

"Warn the others," she said, her voice firm but still calm. "Nirya and I are going to fight this black knight until the other scholars arrive. You three stay here and keep yourselves safe."

"Why?" J'zargo protested. "J'zargo wants to fight."

"Do as I say!" Faralda ordered. "This is no College business like the Eye of Magnus was! We don't know how powerful this person is."

The knight in black armor violently slashed his sword through the air with one hand as he used the other one to shoot a violent beam of lightning, killing whoever was hit in seconds. Behind him, dead, unmoving bodies with lethal injuries, missing limbs or missing heads were sprayed over the snowy ground, making the prospect of fighting this unidentified force all the more frightening.

Nirya and Faralda looked at it from a distance, horrified by the destruction this thing had already brought. The Jarl's Longhouse was set on fire, likely because of the ruthless and unending stream of magic the black knight used to kill anyone who would be too far away to kill with a sword. The ground was littered with corpses, and the few guards that were left barely stood a chance against the strong armor, sword and magic of their attacker. Each time they landed a hit, the creature barely flinched before returning the attack with ten times as much strength.

"You!"

The mages looked at an approaching guard. His armor was damaged, but he himself appeared to be unharmed. He pointed an accusing finger at them.

"You two know more about this?" he asked in a voice that matched said finger.

Faralda shook her head. "No," she replied in her calm yet firm voice. "We came here to help."

The guard lowered his finger. "You better start helping, then. Maybe magic will put this monster into the ground."