Sif and Shadowmere had been making great time in their travels as of late. She had left him in Ivarstead; dusk was beginning to settle across the sky as the peaks of High Hrothgar came into view. She had left Whiterun in the early afternoon.

After she had regretfully claimed yet another soul, the two brothers had taken her back to Jorrvaskr with them to speak with their leader. Kodlak. That was his name. Sif had a lot of respect for the man. From what she'd seen of the Companions, he had a great deal of patience to be their advisor.

She thought again of the dragon that had found her and the brothers in the field. First, it had threatened her, as many of them did. She remembered the phrase as well as she could. Rax wah ruus. My teeth to your neck. A typical threat among the dovah, she supposed. When it was taking its dying breath, though… She tried to remember the words. Brit grah. That's what it had said. A beautiful battle. It was honored to have been slain by her.

Alduin was sending them from Skuldafn to eliminate her, before she had the chance to eliminate him. She knew that for a fact. Half of the time, when they thought they were ambushing her, they cried out in dovahzul; they almost always revealed where they were coming from. She imagined that it was customary for dragons to announce their origin and purpose before engaging in battle with one of their own. She wasn't sure, but she was sure that they had no idea that she understood dovahzul nearly as well as they did.

She pushed along as it began to snow, and flakes got in her eyes. Her body was beginning to acclimate to the cold weather of Skyrim; she no longer needed her heavy furs. She was almost to High Hrothgar. Auroras bloomed in the northern skies, and she knew that even if she did survive the events to come, she would never return to Cyrodiil.

She thought it strange that something opened up inside of her whenever she had to do battle with a dragon. She didn't like it. It made her feel weak. She couldn't describe the feeling as anything other than regret. She didn't want to do battle with her own kind. They were her kin. She was more dragon than she was woman. Mora had said so.

"You called, Still-Born?"

Gods damn him, Sif thought to herself. I can't even think to myself without him butting in. And my name isn't Still-Born anymore. Ulfric and the Stormcloaks call me Snow-Blood.

"They may call you that, but I will always know you as Still-Born." His slow, menacing voice echoed in her head. It was as bad as Shouting indoors; the sound seemed to reverberate and amplify. Sometimes, when Mora interrupted, it made her ears pop.

"Where exactly are you going? As you amble about, Alduin is devouring the souls of your fallen Stormcloaks." When she didn't respond with a contradicting thought, Mora continued. "You can't hope to sever the bond between us. You belong to me."

What about Nocturnal? Sif thought in response. I took an oath and promised my soul to her when Karliah took Brynjolf and I to Nightingale Hall. I swore to serve her in death.

"That may be so, but your promises are as empty as your soul. You haven't walked the Pilgrim's Path to return the Skeleton Key." Sif felt the weight of the Key in her rucksack, suddenly. "There's no hope of returning it now. Nocturnal has already forgotten your oath."

I could return the Key, Sif thought. A violent piercing sensation cut just above her left ear; her eyes slammed shut and she gasped for a moment. It felt like someone had driven a dagger into the side of her skull. She opened her eyes and saw drops of blood in the snow. When she reached up to her face, her fingers came back red. Her nose was dripping.

It wasn't the first time Mora had done that. He did it quite often, actually, when she got a certain thought in her head that he disliked. It wasn't necessarily painful, but it was annoying.

"You will not return that Key," he said, his voice echoing in her head. She continued walking until she reached the steps, which she began to methodically climb. "I have other business to attend to. I'll check in on you later, Still-Born."

As she rested her hand against the door of the monastery, she felt suddenly alone. He liked to do that, too. He could invade her mind whenever he felt like it, and he left her alone whenever he felt like it. She wondered what kept bringing him back.

That's why she had come to High Hrothgar. She knew the battle for Solitude was going to take place in a matter of days, but she had to speak with Paarthurnax about Mora. Perhaps she would get lucky, and the Daedric prince would stay out of their conversation.

When she entered the warmth of High Hrothgar, her keen eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. Over the past weeks since she'd been told of her heritage, her power as a Dragon Incarnate had been growing rapidly. She could see well in the dark, and her resilience against physical damage was growing. Her flesh knit itself back together almost instantly. In addition to that, her Thu'um was getting stronger with every soul she captured.

But she still had a lot of growing to do if she had any hope of succeeding against Alduin. His power still had all of Skyrim in its clutches. She knew that taking Aela's offer and training with the Companions would build her skills as a warrior; she was always more of a stealthy fighter. She seriously doubted that there would be any shadows to hide her in Sovngarde.

As for the Stormcloaks, she hadn't forgotten about Tullius. Her desire to have his head in her hands was still tangible. And she hadn't forgotten what she said to Ulfric the day that she had brought the Khajiit survivors to Windhelm. She had spared them, she had risked her life to take the city and keep those traders alive. They wanted to repay her by joining the fight against the Empire.

When Ulfric refused him, it had awoken something inside of her that she didn't quite know was there. She had used her Voice against him, but only mildly. It was her power of persuasion that had won him over.

She didn't know why she had protected the Khajiit so fiercely. Perhaps they reminded her of Jarra. Perhaps it was because they were unprotected and stuck outside of the city's walls. Balgruuf had not lifted a finger to help them, but Ulfric would. She was determined to see it through. Galmar was skeptical when she had lead them back to the military camp before charging through the city gates, but he knew her intentions were't to be disputed.

She and Ralof had lead the men through the city, into Dragonsreach. She had crippled Balgruuf herself. She would've slain his housecarl, too, if Ralof hadn't stopped her. After their victory, Earlund Gray-Mane presented them with the finest pieces of steel armor from his forge. Ralof was outfitted and Galmar was offered a set, but he refused. Sif was given Galmar's armor as a statement of gratitude.

As she left the city, she witnessed the chaos that they had brought with them. Stormcloaks and Imperial troops had all but torn Whiterun to pieces. It mattered not to her. Ulfric would have his place as High King, and Skyrim would be rid of the Empire and the Dominion that had attempted to take her life.

"A great victory for us, don't you think?" Ralof had said, appearing next to her in his new suit of steel. Sif didn't respond. She was too busy inhaling the metallic scent of blood and fire.

"You fought well, Snow-Blood," she looked over to him as he spoke. He held out his hand; in it was a pendant. "Take this. Every Nord should wear one."

She wasn't exactly in the mood to argue with Ralof over issues of race, so she took the pendant in her hands and held it up to the light. Her fingers were crusted with dried blood.

"What is it?" she asked, turning it around. It reflected a dull green light. To her, it almost resembled an axe.

"It's an amulet of Talos. He's the god of mankind."

She knew very well who Talos was, but she had never seen an amulet like that before. The aura it gave off was different. When she tied it around her neck, she felt a buzzing feeling in the center of her chest. It was lending some sort of power to her.

"I see. Thank you."

That was days ago. Since then, she had gone back to Windhelm, returned to Whiterun to speak with Aela and Kodlak, and now, she was finally reaching High Hrothgar to speak with Paarthurnax. She was also anxious to show Arngeir how much she had grown since they had last seen each other, at the council.

"Arngeir?" she called, softly, as she padded through the monastery. For some reason, she wasn't sensing him. She wasn't sensing any of them. "Einarth? Hello?"

There was a sudden disturbance.

"Fus!"

She moved out of the way just as the Shout whistled past her, whirling around with her ice-blade drawn. Arngeir stood there, ready for combat. His look softened when he recognized her.

"Dragonborn, it's you," he said, sighing with what seemed like relief. Sif sheathed her sword and approached cautiously. "I'm sorry to have Shouted at you like that. I was afraid that you were an intruder."

Intruder? Why would Arngeir be afraid of that? As far as Sif knew, there had never been any altercations at High Hrothgar. It was supposed to be a peaceful place.

"Are you expecting any intruders?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Where are the others?"

"They are concealing themselves, just as I was," Arngeir replied, with another heavy sigh. He gestured towards the fire burning in the hearth that stood in their quarters. Sif followed him over and the two sat down. Sif could feel a slight itching on her skin as it warmed by the fire, but her insides remained stone-cold.

"What are you hiding from?" Sif asked again, sitting up in her chair and leveling her eyes with his. He held contact with her for a moment before breaking away.

"Do you remember when we held the council here, and the Blades were in attendance?" he asked, warming his hands again. Sif saw a flash of movement behind him; it was only Einarth, moving through the shadows.

"Delphine told me to kill Paarthurnax."

"And you refused her, yes."

Sif remembered almost feeling her blood boil at Delphine's words. She wanted to run the woman through. The thought of harming her mentor was incomprehensible, in Sif's mind. She was sure that she could never attempt to destroy Paarthurnax, even if she wished to. His Voice was older, stronger, and far more superior to hers.

"The Blades have continued to make threats to us. They wish for us to allow them access to the mountaintop, so they may take care of Paarthurnax themselves."

"They?" Sif asked. As she remembered, there was only Delphine and Esbern.

"Delphine has begun finding recruits to join her. She's trying to revive the Blades. They sent an emissary here just last week, to warn us. That is why we've had our defenses up."

Sif's blood began to boil. She wasn't particularly fond of the old monks, and she knew that they could take care of themselves. Their Voices were the strongest ones in Tamriel. Paarthurnax was different. He could take care of himself, but only to an extent. All across Skyrim, dragons were roaming the skies, and the Nords were starting to figure out how to bring them down. Also, the Blades were an organization dedicated to killing dragons. They would bring all the force they could to Paarthurnax.

"They can't reach Paarthurnax," Sif said, remembering now that the way to the Throat of the World was barred by the freezing winds. "They don't know Clear Skies. They'll either be frozen, or blown off the side of the mountain."

"That is what I'm having trouble with," Arngeir admitted, leaning back and stroking his beard with one hand. "All of these threats seem to be useless. Even if they could get through High Hrothgar, they wouldn't be able to climb the mountain."

Sif nodded. "There's no reason for you to be on your guard. They have no power here."

Both of them were silent as Sif's eyes steadily bored into Arngeir's. After a moment, his look of scrutiny softened into one of approval.

"Very well, Dragonborn," he said, standing. Sif did the same. "I see that your Thu'um has grown stronger. I can hear it when you speak."

"I have been training," she replied with a gracious nod. A part of her was glad that she decided to come to High Hrothgar, but she exactly wasn't sure what part.

"That is evident, but even so. Your skills have yet to grow if you wish to follow Alduin into Sovngarde."

She knew that. She was trying to improve all of her skills, not just her Voice. She had other priorities, though; first, lopping the head from the Imperial Legion. She had already struck the Empire at its core by murdering the Emperor himself, but her real focus had nothing to do with the politics in Tamriel. What she was after was revenge. By helping Ulfric take the throne, that's exactly what she would get.

"Paarthurnax," she suddenly mentioned, standing from her seat. "I am only passing through. I must speak with Paarthurnax before I go to Solitude."

At this, Arngeir made a conflicted face. "You know the way, then, Dragonborn. I doubt it will be much of an effort for you to climb the mountain. But be vigilant. The Blades have sent scouts this way before. I doubt they would hesitate to attack if you crossed paths."

Sif said nothing. She would've loved to have been accosted by the Blades. She could see herself, lopping Delphine's head from her shoulders. Now that would be truly satisfying.

"Yes. My horse is outside. I will return on the way down."

She took her leave and stepped out once more into the frigid flurry, adjusting the bag on her shoulder before beginning her climb. Clear Skies came with no effort at all, and she almost chuckled; she remembered a time when that sort of Shout would've been difficult for her. Now, like all of the others, it was nothing.

She reached the Time Wound in less than an hour. The air was still shivering, just as it was on the day that she read the Elder Scroll and met Alduin for the third time. She remembered it, as if it had only happened a matter of hours ago. She remembered the inky shine of his scales, as if they had been painted with black blood. She remembered the sight of her and Paarthurnax meeting in the sky and exchanging Words with such force. All of Skyrim must've felt their exchange.

Sif threw her head back and let the greeting of a Dov cascade forth. Paarthurnax responded with his own fiery Shout as he landed on the back of the word wall and looked upon her with a wizened yellow eye.

"Drem yol lok, mul gein," Paarthurnax said. His voice sent a sensation down the back of Sif's neck that felt like a million little needles pricking her skin at once. It had been weeks since she had seen or spoken with her mentor. "What brings you to my mountain?"

"Do you remember the last time that we spoke?" Sif said, hoping to get straight to the point before Mora could come back into her head and prevent her from telling Paarthurnax what she knew.

"Zu'u korah ful, yes. We spoke of your soul, did we not?" he asked. Sif was close enough to him that she could see the leathery texture of his skin; she suddenly wished to touch it. "You must've found some valuable information if you bothered to climb my mountain once more."

She had to hurry. She could feel buzzing in her temples; he would be coming back. "I found out that I don't have a human spirit at all." She struggled to arrange her words, her tongue was growing thicker. "I truly was still-born, and my human soul was claimed by Hermaeus Mora."

That was it. She felt the buzzing come to a crescendo and clamp down, as if it was squeezing both sides of her head to crush her skull. Her hands flew up to her ears and she dropped to her knees, letting out a strangled cry of anguish. She had never felt anything like it before. The pain… Was it truly pain that she was feeling?

"How dare you speak my name!" Mora roared in her thoughts. The buzzing clamped down and she squeezed her eyes shut, grinding her teeth together. She couldn't hear Paarthurnax as he called her name. "How dare you! Speak my name once more, and I shall wrench your tongue from your throat and render you a mute!"

She opened her eyes and squeezed the sides of her head, trying to relieve the roaring in her ears. She could see drops of blood in the snow; her nose always bled when he came rushing into her thoughts the way that he did.

You can't do that, she thought. You can't do that.

"Imbecile! You know nothing of my power!" his voice boomed in response. A third wave came pounding down upon her, more powerful than the first and the second combined, and she let out another strangled cry. She clutched the sides of her head and wanted to bury her face in the snow; anything to help the stabbing and burning behind her eyes.

"…em ov."

She felt a sudden calm wash over her. The quiet came upon her so quickly that the silence hurt her ears almost as much as Mora's constant noise had. She realized that she was on her knees in the snow; she stood up almost immediately. She did not want to appear weak in front of her mentor.

"What was that?" she asked him, rubbing her temples with shaking hands. "Where did he go?"

"Where did who go?" Paarthurnax responded, bringing his massive head closer to her and inspecting her with his careful eyes.

"Mora. He was inside my head, but he just disappeared," she said, looking up at him. For the first time in her life, she felt confused. The distant buzzing that she heard told her that he wasn't entirely gone, but only for a moment.

"I used the peace of Kyne to calm your thoughts, dovahkiin. Now, what is it you were trying to explain to me?"

Kyne's Peace. If that's all it took to keep Mora away, even for a few minutes… But he would be back with a vengeance in no time, she was sure. She had to explain everything to Paarthurnax, as quickly as she could.

"Hermaeus Mora," she said, remembering immediately where she had left off. "He claimed my soul when I was born, but Akatosh told him to restore it, because I was destined to be Dragonborn and face Alduin when the time came."

"Ah," Paarthurnax groaned in response. His breath was warm on Sif's face, even at a distance. It smelled like the pages of an ancient tome. "So Mora restored the dragon half of your soul, but kept the human portion to himself."

"Yes," she continued, feeling the buzzing turning into a dull thrumming sensation. She prayed to Talos that her time wasn't yet spent. "That is why we're connected. The rest of my soul had been promised to him as soon as I fulfill my duty as Dragonborn."

"So, as soon as Alduin is defeated-"

"Yes."

"-you will die," Paarthurnax said, closing his eyes for a moment with a somber nod. They were both silent, until he spoke again. "Has he always been an intruder inside of your mind?"

Sif shook her head. "No. That just recently began. He comes and goes whenever he pleases."

Paarthurnax clicked his tongue thoughtfully and looked at the Word Wall beneath him for a moment before looking to the north. He looked back at her again.

"You must find someone that can seal your mind," he said, nodding once more. "Kyne's Peace will only work for intervals of time. You must find one of your own, a lahzey."

Sif knew that he meant a mage. Someone capable of alteration, or enchanting… Sif knew a few destruction spells, but she knew nothing beyond that. She had been to the College of Winterhold on many occasions, and she doubted that those reclusive people would be willing to help her. Perhaps she could arrange something with the help of Enthir, or Urag. They had both helped her before.

"I will write to them when I reach Ivarstead," she said, shaking the thrumming away again. "Until then-"

She felt a sudden rush of air by her right ear. An arrow bounced off of the Word Wall and careened into the snow, landing shaft up. She whirled around and saw three figures in brown furs, bundled against the wind. One of them was holding a bow.

"Vir yin hi! Who sets foot upon my mountain without the blessing of the Thu'um?" Paarthurnax boomed, while traces of fire followed his words. Sif drew her blade of ice, holding it aloft. Either that arrow was meant for Paarthurnax, or for her. There was no way that these people were friendly.

The figure with the bow reached up, pulling down the hood on its cloak. Sif recognized the scowling face and the flaxen hair, tied back, and the narrowed eyes of High Rock. A Breton. Delphine. Sif felt her blood beginning to simmer; for one of them, the Throat of the World would be their resting place.

The others with her were recruits for the Blades. Just a few Nords, it looked like. They must've followed Sif up the mountain. They had to have been waiting for her to come back to see Paarthurnax. That would explain why they were hanging around High Hrothgar.

They're too afraid of the Greybeards, Sif thought to herself. Do they really think I'll be any less powerful.

"We asked you before, Dragonborn. If you had granted our request and killed Paarthurnax, I wouldn't have to face you like this," Delphine called into the wind, notching another arrow. "We do not want to kill you. We only want him."

Sif felt Paarthurnax becoming angry. She knew what his wrath felt like. Arngeir had once told her that there was a fine Thread that connected all who had any understanding of the Thu'um. All who possessed the Voice were a part of the Thread, and they were all connected. The connection between Sif and Paarthurnax was a strong one; not only from their constant meditations together, but also from their proximity.

"I will defend him with my life," Sif said, in a tone so menacing that she saw the chill seep into their bones. Delphine stiffened.

"Your life is not worth throwing away for this monster," Delphine said, preparing to draw her bow. A growl of protest came from Paarthurnax, but Sif's thoughts reached out to him to calm him down. She could handle Delphine. She would handle Delphine. She said nothing; she only deepened her stance and prepared her Voice. She would rip Delphine apart with the sheer force of it.

Instead of loosing an arrow, like Sif expected her to, Delphine threw her bow down and drew the sword at her side, rushing forward. Sif did the same and their blades met with an icy clang. Sif pushed her backwards with a kick to her chest and slashed. Fur came off of her cloak and was lost to the wind, leaving a hole. Sif could see the leather armor beneath it.

When Delphine came rushing at her, she stepped to the side and slammed into her, knocking her backwards. Delphine's stamina was surprising; she quickly regained her balance and managed to slice right through the Skyforge steel that Sif was wearing. It was no matter; Sif didn't feel the cold, or the sting of Delphine's blade across her collar.

Delphine looked bewildered as Sif came at her again, playing strike after parry after strike. She was simply too fast for Delphine to keep up with. There was a wild look in her eye, and an unfathomable lust in her mind. Delphine managed to push her back again when she realized that Sif was driving her towards the edge, but as she turned around to slash, it was too late.

Sif grabbed Delphine by the shoulder and drove her blade through her stomach up to the hilt. Sif felt the warm rush of blood on her hand as it spilled from Delphine's gut. It spattered in the snow; Delphine choked.

Sif grabbed the back of her head. In one fluid motion, she withdrew her blade and severed Delphine's head. The headless body crumpled into the red snow like a rag doll. Sif looked first to Paarthurnax, who was watching with definite approval, then to the trembling blades, who stood with their swords drawn. She walked to the recruits with a calm demeanor and held Delphine's head up for them to see. It was molded with a perpetual expression of fright; it dripped blood into the snow that swirled around their feet.

She was aware that she hadn't used her Thu'um. She knew, as soon as the short duel began, that her Voice would've ended things too quickly. She wanted to take her time with Delphine. Theirs was a battle long overdue.

"Take this to Esbern," Sif said, tossing Delphine's severed head at their feet. The two of them recoiled. With fear or disgust, Sif did not know. "Tell him that if he wishes to return to the Throat of the World, his fate will be the same."

One of them rushed forward, but he too was ran through with Sif's ice-blade. She withdrew her sword and he crumpled, convulsing. She did not behead him, she instead gestured to Delphine's severed head, which was lying face-up in the snow in front of the last recruit.

Sif knew that the last recruit was too shaken up to attack, so she turned once more to her mentor, who was perched on the edge of the Word Wall.

"I will return when I have met with the mage," Sif said, sheathing her bloody blade at her side. She briefly inspected the thin slice in the upper breastplate of her armor. She would need a new set before she reached Solitude. When she looked up, Paarthurnax gave a deep nod of appreciation.

"Vah su'um ven, dovahkiin," he said. He blessed her with Kyne's Peace once more before taking wing to the skies above. Sif watched him go with something akin to admiration. She truly felt the Thread between them; he was her master, and she, his mentor. Or was it the other was around?

When she turned to make her descent, the last recruit had disappeared with Delphine's head. Her body and the body of the other dead man were already being blanketed with fresh snow.