Fahiil

Thera

When Ralof and I exited the cave, the black dragon was screaming through the skies above. Its roar echoed across the mountains of Skyrim, and flocks of birds flew in fear of the noise from every giant tree. "Okay, looks like he's gone," Ralof said. He turned to me and sighed. "Thanks for your help – I wouldn't have made it without you."

"It's no problem," I responded with a humble smile. Ugh, this was the worst part of spying in human lands – acting weaker than these, in their words, "milk drinkers." I heaved a sigh and shrugged. "What now?"

"Now? Now... you're free. But it would be nice if you helped me get to Riverwood – my sister Gerdur and her husband run a mill there and would be happy to help you out. Maybe you could get some sleep, even."

I rubbed the back of my neck. I had been awake since receiving my assignment in this gods-forsaken land. "Sleep sounds nice," I replied as the hours awake finally caught up with me. I yawned and shook my head to force some semblance of alertness back into my mind.

"Aye," Ralof agreed. He looked down the hill. "We should hurry, before any Imperials get out of Helgen."

I nodded, and Ralof took off down the hill. I jogged after the Nord, who began speaking to me again. "You know, the Empire just tried to kill you, so they obviously are not your biggest supporter. If you ever need anywhere to hide out – or if you want to help strike a blow against the Empire – just head to Windhelm. Jarl Ulfric will always be a friend to an enemy of the Empire."

"Even an elf?" I asked.

Just as Ralof prepared to answer, a trio of wolves rushed from behind trees and towards us. I drew my twin blades quickly and lashed out at the nearest wolf. I saw Ralof dealing with another one, and returned my attention to my own enemy. I sidestepped the simple attacks of the animal, and dealt a series of sharp jabs to the creature's flank. The feral wolf jumped at me again, and I buried my sword in its neck. The wolf whimpered, low and quiet, as lupine blood oozed from its neck.

While I shoved the creature off my blade, a snarl came from behind me; I turned just in time to see the third wolf – Gods, I forgot there were three! – tackle me to the ground. My swords fell from my hands and clattered against the ground, useless. I threw up my arms and gripped the wolf by both the top and bottom of its jaw, preventing the sharp teeth from tearing through my throat.

Even as the feral wolf and I struggled on the ground, the beast growled and snarled above my head. Spit and flecks of old animal flesh from between the wolf's teeth fell onto my face and ran down my cheeks. "Ugh!" I snarled, half in anger and half in disgust. I brought my legs beneath the wolf as we struggled and, as powerfully as I could, kicked at the wolf's body. The wolf whined and flipped through the air onto its back. I looked to my right and my hand scrabbled against the rock for the sword beside me. My fingers grasped the handle just as the wolf recovered from my kick. The beast jumped towards me, snarling once more. I brought my sword up and pointed the tip at the wolf. The creature, already mid-air, could not stop and its mouth plunged around the steel. The blade erupted from the top of the creature's head, brain and blood flying everywhere. The creature's body, however, still landed on top of me. I struggled against the dead weight of the corpse atop my body, and yelped in relief when the weight disappeared.

"You need to pay more attention," Ralof suggested above me. He slid his ax into his belt an clapped his hands together. Bloody fur erupted into the air around him and drifted to the ground. After a few moments of poorly cleaning his gloves, the man reached down and clasped my hand. He pulled me up without so much as a grunt of exertion. "You okay?"

"Fine," I replied as I picked my second sword up from the ground. I rolled the wolf's corpse onto its back again and pulled the sword brutally from its skull. "I'm just tired – as you said."

"Aye. Anyways, as I was about to say, we allow elves in Windhelm, even now. Dark Elves."

"That live in a ghetto," I pointed out. "Because they aren't... 'superior Nords?'"

Ralof was quiet at that. "Look. If the Empire is out of Skyrim, it's better for everyone. We wouldn't have to deal with their bureaucracy and weakness. We'd also be free of the Thalmor – and it didn't seem that they liked you. Sounds like a plus for everyone involved."

"I agree," I said after a few moments of deliberation. I delivered a kick to the wolf's body for good measure as I noticed a soreness in my left shoulder. "So. Where's this town?"

"Ah... first, we should see the guardian stones," Ralof said, grinning. "Three of thirteen standing stones that dot the homeland, that respond to special individuals. I mean, we survived a dragon attack – I think one of us would be a safe bet for 'hero material.'"

A few minutes later, Ralof had me standing in front of three... stones. "They're decorated with three Guardian constellations," he explained. He walked over to one and ran his fingers across it. "Warrior, Mage, and Thief. Supposedly, like I said, only heroes can activate them. They give people... special divine blessings. It's never worked when I've tried, but maybe if you..."

I blinked. "You really think -" I began, but I saw that Ralof was indeed deathly serious. "Fine. Fine."

I walked up to the three stones, still skeptical. Ralof stood outside of the triangle of Guardians. "So I just -" I froze as my fingers ran across the warrior stone. A blue light ignited within a small, circular hole near the top of the stone. The light shot through the air and into the bright blue sky, where it disappeared into Aetherius. "Wow."

"I've never seen them interact with anyone before..."

I ran immediately to the Thief stone and ran my fingers across the face of the constellation. The figure lit up and the light shot into the sky. When I turned to do the same to the Mage stone, I saw the light of the Warrior stone had gone out. "W-what happened?"

"Oh – the legends say you can only have one of the thirteen active at any time. I'll be on the road to Riverwood – just down this path. Choose your stone and catch up with me." The Nord turned on his heel and walked down the stone street. My eyes followed him until he turned around a bend and disappeared from view.

I returned my attention to the three stones around me. I glanced between the Warrior, which was no longer lit, and the Thief, which still sent the luminous, blue Magicka into the sky. As I walked towards the Warrior stone to reactivate its gift, whatever that may be, the sound of two voices – a Nord and an Imperial – drifted into earshot. My eyes shot open, and I turned and ran from the voices as they grew closer.

Jul

Lucius

"I'm telling you, I saw a light, just over here!" I told Hadvar as we ran down the hill. We reached the bottom of the hill, where three stones stood together on purposely placed tile-like rock. I turned down the path and saw the surprising crimson of elven hair. "It's the other prisoner! The one that was with a Stormcloak!"

Hadvar turned with me. "She's an elf wearing Stormcloak armor – there's no way that the Stormcloak is still alive."

I furrowed my brow and stared after the woman sprinting away from us. "Then why'd she run?" I asked. When Hadvar didn't answer, I turned back to the Nord, who was staring at the three stones.

"Is this where you saw the light?" the Nord man asked me.

I scratched my head. "Um... yeah, actually. But there isn't one – I must've imagined it."

"No, I don't think you did," the soldier said. He turned to me. "These stones – they're blessings named for the Guardians. They're three of the thirteen Constellation Standing Stones that dot Skyrim's landscape. Heroes... heroes can use them. Those chosen by Akatosh – they've never worked for me or anyone else that I've ever met."

I walked towards the stones. "So... someone was able to use them?" I asked. I walked towards one of the stones and stared at the constellation – the Mage – that was etched into its face. After a few moments of scrutiny, I reached out to trace the constellation with my thumb. A shock of Magicka jumped from my hand to the stone, and the bright blue fluid of pure Nirn-borne Magicka shot into the sky.

"Well, apparently not someone. Congratulations hero. Which one do you choose – you can only have one. Rules of the Ni – Eight, and all."

"Only one?" I asked. I stared at the three stones – Thief, Warrior, and Mage. "I'll keep the Mage Stone, then."

"Mage, eh? Well, to each his own. It's not for me to judge," Hadvar remarked.

"You Nords and your distrust of magic," I groaned as I walked with the soldier. "It saved quite a few times in Helgen, if you don't remember."

"Aye, that it did. No reason to make me feel guilty," he acquiesced. "It's just... pounded into us. Necromancy, Daedra summoning. The Oblivion Crisis? Magic doesn't do good things."

"Neither do all thieves or warriors," I pointed out. I continued walking down the path to Riverwood with Hadvar. "So your uncle, Alvor, you're sure he'll help us?"

"Aye, he will. He's a good man. If you need anything, hero, he'll help you," Hadvar said. He glanced over his shoulder at the standing stones. "Gods... you're chosen. That's an honor, you know?"

I didn't look back at the stones. "I do. But that's not always a good life," I replied hoarsely. "My father could use similar stones – they're all around Cyrodiil. His life was not easy – he died in the battles against bandits and such that popped up everywhere after the war with the Thalmor. Died a 'hero' when I was but a boy."

The walk was quiet for a while as that settled in. Finally, I asked, "Do you really think I should join the Legion? I was a prisoner – do you really think Tullius will accept my help?"

"Of course! I know, today wasn't the best introduction to the Legion, but I hope you'll give us another chance. The Legion could really use someone like you, especially now. And if the rebels have themselves a dragon, General Tullius is the only one who can stop them," Hadvar replied as he walked alongside me.

I nodded. "You make a good case. Maybe I will join up," I said. I sighed and rubbed my eyes while we continued walking. "Ugh, I've been awake for almost a day. Is there a place to sleep in Riverwood?"

"There's a Tavern, you can rent a room. And on the topic of you joining the legion: I hope so. The Legion is Skyrim's only hope right now, be it against the rebels or the Thalmor."

I nodded. "I agree. I've seen what the Thalmor are capable of – the rebels would never be ready against that."

"What do you mean?" Hadvar asked.

Flashes of torture tools ran through my mind, followed by rivers of blood, cities ablaze, and the caclke of Thalmor. "It was... I have had some bad experiences with the Thalmor as a child. After my father's death... my mother wasn't far behind. There were a lot of orphans running around, then. Order was hard to come by. And the Thalmor took advantage of that. Civil War is drew me here – I just wanted to disappear off their radar. Guess that ship has sailed, eh?"

"Hm..." Hadvar replied. "I'm sorry I brought it up. It sounds like it there are some painful memories that you don't want to share. I don't blame you, of course. If your story is anything like the rumors about Northwatch keep... My apologies."

"It's not your fault, Hadvar," I assured. "You just wanted to know what I meant. That's normal, I mean, everyone asks if I accidentally bring it up."

"Still – I'm sorry," Hadvar replied. He took a deep breath and pointed forward. "Here we are – Riverwood."

The town was small – quiet, perhaps even cozy. There was a lazy current of energy that just drew me in, made me want to settle down in the small village. It would have been a beautiful life – had dragons not found their way into the world. Not much one can do to stop the End Times living a simple life in the smallest village of Whiterun hold. "Uncle Alvor!" Hadvar shouted. The sounds of a smithy that I had not noticed stopped in the background. "Hello!"

A Nord man, who looked much like an older Hadvar, walked down the stairs form the smithy and frowned. "Hadvar, what are you doing here? Are you on leave from..." the man's words trailed off as we walked closer. "Shor's bones, what happened to you, boy? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Hadvar looked around, scared. "Shh... Uncle, please. Keep your voice down. I'm fine, but we should go inside to talk."

Alvor frowned and stared between us for a moment. "I – Okay. Okay. Come inside, then. Sigrid will get you something to eat and you can tell me all about it."

Jul

Angeir

The old man knelt uncomfortably on the stone floor of High Hrothgar. Prayers to Kyne, the mother of the Tongues and Queen of the Skies, flowed from his lips like a river. "AL-DU-IN..."

The man's eyes flew open. The river of prayers to the sky-goddess froze mid-word. "AL-DU-IN..." The old man's arms dropped to his side, and the breath in his lungs rushed outward. "DA-AL... AL-DU-IN..."

The old man stood up quickly and his knees creaked painfully. He groaned in discomfort and walked slowly, but purposefully, to the doors of his abbey. "DO-VAH-KIIN... ZIIN... KRI-ZAAN..."

"Shor's wounds," Angeir breathed to himself while the sound of Kyne's warnings ran through the air. Suddenly, the roar of a dragon unfamiliar to the Greybeard rang across the mountaintop. Angeir looked up to see a black harbinger of death flying through Kyne's domain. "Gods... Alduin returns from the oceans of time... Is there nothing that can save us?"

"DOVAHKIIN!" the air rang, clear and painful. "DOVAHKIIN!"

Angeir fell to the powdery snow, and the voice of Kyne rang to his ears once more, quiet and peaceful. "DOVAHKIIN ZIIL KRIZAAN. JUL AHRK FAHIIL, IRKBAAN AHRK DREM, SULEYK AHRK ORBALAAN. DOVAHKIIN ZIIL."

The Greybeard could not understand every word – fluency in the dragon language for humans was not true fluency. "Dragonborn... Two Dragonborn?"

The old man stood once again. "But who are they? Jul ahrk fahiil? Man and Elf? But... but who?"

"FEN KOS GENUN KO TIID," the voice of Kyne explained soothingly. The wind whispered the words through the snow and the clouds and the towers and the fire. The words of the gods themselves bringing tears of fear and joy to Angeir, spokesman of the Greybeards.

"Blessed, Kyne, thank you. Mighty Akatosh, thank you," Angeir prayed. "Thank you."

The roar of Alduin shot through the distant skies of Skyrim once again. Angeir watched the beast fly to the south, towards Falkreath hold. The black beast flew with dark purpose that echoed with its every wing beat. Angeir knew that the destroyer of the world hunted Nirn's saviors. The monster knew who the two Dragonborn were, and Angeir could only hope that at least one survived the brutality that was rushing towards them.