Children of Akatosh

by CDrake

In the wake of recent victories, an ancient threat resurfaces to challenge Ketar Dov's status as Dragonborn, forcing him to enter the murky world of Apocrypha in search of answers. In the midst of this, a question to Serana creates tension that hinders their ability to work together. Conflicting gods and priorities can be quite a pain when all Kay really wants to do is get married.

21. The Last Dragonborn, Part III

Miraak couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so…alive. Honestly, if his monumental pride didn't bar him, he might have thanked the young Dragonborn for pushing him to his limits. For so long, he'd been relying on those around him, those he bent to his will, that he'd almost forgotten the rush, the thrill of battle; and the immense satisfaction that came from bringing an enemy to his knees the old-fashioned way. Perhaps he would survive the fall, perhaps not, but either way, Ketar Dov had been a fool to challenge him so brazenly. Drunk off his success against Alduin, he could see why the boy had done so, but still.

For one who vaunted his intelligence so blatantly, it was a really stupid move.

Almost chuckling to himself, Miraak turned away from the edge and strode back toward the center of the platform, where the Black Book Waking Dreams lay fallen and discarded, his ticket back to Nirn and his final conquest of Tamriel. He'd only taken four steps when suddenly, his instincts flared up, and he sensed something behind him. Slowly, he turned his head to look back and felt his eyes widen without his consent when, as if from the pages of some fairy tale, a cloaked form in all black rose over the edge, suspended midair with absolutely nothing supporting him. The visored mask over his features obscured the no-doubt furious look on his face as his fingers laced together, a near-undetectable tremble of focus in his hands.

Miraak couldn't help but stare. He was…flying. He was flying. Well, more like levitating, but still. Even he had never been able to master such magics, though to be fair, after riding his first dragon, he'd never really felt the need to. Regardless of their enmity, Miraak felt his respect for this kid automatically go up a notch, and…something else stir inside at the sight of him: floating midair, fingers laced together, his black cloak billowing all around him as they glared at each other. He felt cold all over, and it made him grip his sword tighter in reflex. There was something else at play here, something that went beyond just the boy sitting in the air in front of him.

Miraak's entire body wanted to shake, to tremble like a dead leaf in the wind. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in many, many ages. Not since…

Within seconds, the cascade coalesced into the winged form of a golden dragon, larger and more regal than any the Dragonborn had ever seen. And when he spoke, power laced every single booming word.

"You dare make demands of me?! Need I remind you that it was your ego and impulsiveness that put you in this situation to begin with?!"

And at this realization, Miraak's teeth clenched. So…it was him you chose? This naïve brat…you stood behind him, gave him everything. He squared up with the floating figure, hefting his sword into a ready position as his left hand brandished his staff. Then that is what I'll take from him…show you just how wrong you were to cast me aside. And then…then I will have my vengeance in full.

…

Ketar almost couldn't believe what was happening. The moment he'd been flung off the side of the platform and seen the corrosive grime he was careening towards, his instincts had just taken over. Before he knew it, his cloak had deployed and expanded to its maximum span, and his hands flared with an Alteration spell he'd been trying to perfect for weeks. Ever since first using the vampire cloak, Ketar had been experimenting with ways to enhance its partial levitation enchantment to full antigravity; and in the process ran across an old Dunmer tome dating before the Oblivion Crisis and the Levitation Ban that had outlawed the use of such magics.

Considering he was running two criminal organizations and frequently defied Imperial law, he figured one more offense was hardly going to make a difference in the long run, and as such worked tirelessly to recover the lost art of levitation magic. Not once had he been able to achieve a successful casting, even using the cloak, but now, when he needed it most, his Breton blood had finally whispered the answer. And now, as he stared into Miraak's eyes, he felt another whisper enter his mind. Before he knew it, his lips were moving of their own accord, as if driven by some primal instinct. The power in his dragon blood answered its call, singing together as his Voice formed three words he hadn't Spoken since slaying Alduin.

"Mul-Qah-Diiv!"

Ketar knew something was different the moment the last Word left his lips. The transformation of his Dragon Aspect with the Armor of Auriel was an improvement, to be sure, the way it melded with its chain and plate. But this…this was like a piece that he'd never known was missing. Gone were the orange and blue ethereal inserts, and no longer did he have the blatant visage of a dragon. The spectral armor that typically adorned his body flared and appeared for barely a moment before it collapsed and melted into the plates and scales of Ketar's armor, as if it were a skintight layer over Alduin's Visage.

Its appearance was revealed only by a slight but detectable shimmer over the armor's surface, like a silvery heat ripple that accentuated the scaly hide of his suit. The webbed tendons on the underside of his cloak were suddenly not the only draconic trait it had, as the cloak itself appeared to be made of ethereal dragon leather, like a pair of wings. The mask and hood of his armor seemed to be encased in a single piece of scaly hide, as if the headpiece were Ketar's actual face, though no features were visible apart from two glowing blue eyes where his visor was. From head to toe, he no longer looked like he was mimicking a bipedal dragon, even now lacking the tail that had existed previously. It was quite the opposite, as if a dragon had deigned to assume mortal form, not unlike Akatosh's humanoid avatar.

The same whispers he'd felt from Alduin's Visage upon completion of its forging sang through his blood like fire as the ethereal armor affixed itself to his body. The moment it solidified completely, Ketar swung his arms backward, and his cloak followed with an explosive flap that propelled him feet-first into Miraak's chest before he had a chance to counter. The sheer impact force alone sent the rogue Dragonborn flying twenty feet back to slide to a stop. As Ketar landed back on the platform in a kneeling crouch, his new wings pooling around him, his arm snapped out to the side and summoned his sword back to his hand. No more speeches or taunts were exchanged as Miraak regained his footing and they faced off.

Only three words were uttered by Miraak before they charged each other like opposing tidal waves.

"Mul-Qah-Diiv!"

…

"Odahviing, watch his tail!"

The red dragon heeded Serana's advice by flapping his wings once to bring his chest out of the range of Sahrotaar's barbed tail. He countered with a blast of fire breath that was absorbed by Sahrotaar's wing like a shield. Serana moved in on his opposite side, trying to blindside him, but found herself forced to backpedal when the serpent sent a stream of flame in her direction. Serana launched herself behind a nearby boulder, her armored boots skidding through the snow and scuffing the edge of the mountain upon which they battled. A sharp exhale came from her throat, sending a stream of steam from her lips as she steeled herself for a lunge back into the fray.

Despite his fury and strength, Serana could see how much Odahviing's wounds were paining him. Given the fact that Sahrotaar had barely been engaged in battle before taking on the two of them, he was fresher and overall stronger than either of them. Moreover, he'd had the last several ages to grow in skill and power, whereas Serana had been asleep and Odahviing had been, well…dead. But with both working together…

We might just have a chance.

Gritting her teeth, Serana lunged from behind the boulder, dagger in hand, and leapt twenty feet through the air to land on Sahrotaar's right shoulder. Before she could plunge the blade into his hide, he bucked his body hard and snapped it in in a vertical, whip-like motion, as if his body were a wave. The sudden motion was so violent, she was thrown clear through the air, upside-down, leaving her exposed and vulnerable to a whip of Sahrotaar's tail. She threw her arms up to mitigate the damage, but the impact still jarred her to her bones and caved in her gauntlets almost all the way to her skin. She could feel the bent metal threatening to break through the rich fabric underneath.

Additionally, she was sent flying even further toward the edge of the mountain, over the side, in fact. Serana grit her teeth and focused her magic on enhancing her cloak's levitation to try and redirect her motion, but a flash of red in her peripheral vision caught her attention and prompted her to reach out with her empty hand. Her fingers wrapped around the end of Odahviing's tail as the dragon snarled at his serpentine opponent, clawing at the ground with one of his talons in taunt. He kept his tail low, so that Serana couldn't see Sahrotaar, but after just a moment, she realized that went both ways. Odahviing and Sahrotaar faced each other in a tense standoff for some time, until a strong wind sent a thick cloud of snow flying between them, obstructing their vision.

Serana grinned as she launched herself upward and sprinted across Odahviing's back, the scent of Sahrotaar's seeping wounds like a beacon fire as she leapt from the dragon's head, sword couched against her side in readiness. On her way down, she heard Odahviing's Voice pierce the air in a blast of fire breath that scorched Sahrotaar's wings when he used them to shield his face. It also had the effect of further blinding the black dragon, to the point that when Serana finally fell within range, he was completely open and unaware of her presence. With a baring of her fangs, she drove the basket-hilted sword into Sahrotaar's neck almost to the hilt, the wyrm roaring and thrashing his head about in agony and nearly throwing her clear once again.

Serana's dagger left its sheath when she felt her grip around the sword loosening, the black dragonbone finding a new home next to her sword as she punched it through Sahrotaar's hide like a hot knife through butter. Hooking both blades slightly, she dug them in and viciously twisted them around, keeping Sahrotaar so preoccupied that he never saw Odahviing coming. The red dragon growled and bellowed in rage as he grabbed Sahrotaar with his left talon, that wing draped across his back in a tight grip while his jaws clamped down on the serpent's neck. Odahviing's back flexed as his right wing flapped to give him a bit of upward momentum, the rest of him snapping hard and effectively body-slamming Sahrotaar into the mountain's peak back-first.

Serana coughed repeatedly as she scrambled to her feet, having been thrown clear during the impact, and waved the whirling snow away from her face as she tried to see what was happening. Out of nowhere, a black tail swept and coiled around her body, trapping her arms at her sides and steadily squeezing the life out of her. Further up, Sahrotaar's talons scraped against Odahviing's wing as they battled head-to-head, their features lost in a mess of scales and fangs. Grunting and growling in effort, Serana managed to free one arm, Sunset's Bite clutched in her hand, and struck Sahrotaar's tail repeatedly where she could see a cluster of tendons. The dragon shrieked in agony as the appendage went limp and released her only to come back and strike her across the face.

The impact sent Serana skidding back through the snow, and as she made to sit up, she felt a warm trickle of blood run down her forehead. Swiping it out of her eyes, she launched herself back into the fight, snatching up her fallen sword and readying the Bite for use. She had just entered a small clearing, just enough to see both dragons, when she realized that Sahrotaar had Odahviing pinned. Somehow, he'd managed to get the dragon on his side, in an incredibly vulnerable position, and was currently pressing Odahviing's head into the snow with one of his paws. Moreover, the angle at which Odahviing's neck was at present was far too close to the breaking point.

Sahrotaar spotted Serana before she could interfere and blasted fire in her direction, forcing her to scramble away and leaving Odahviing defenseless. Panic shot through Serana like lightning as she saw Sahrotaar put even more of his weight on the red dragon. Her eyes flickered to Sahrotaar's features just in time to see a strange look in his reptilian eyes, as if he was merely a passenger to a horror he couldn't look away from. Her jaw clenched.

I won't let you forsake your honor. I won't let you destroy a brother…even if it means your death.

With a fierce cry, Serana drew her left arm back and snapped it forward hard, hurling her dagger at Sahrotaar's chest and striking him dead-on where his heart should have been. The serpent howled and staggered away, releasing Odahviing's head and stumbling wing-first into an icy boulder. When he didn't immediately fall limp, but snapped his gaze to Serana, she realized the one defect Ketar hadn't thought of when he crafted her new dagger: it was too short to pierce a dragon's heart. Teeth bared, Sahrotaar drew himself up and took a long breath in readiness to cremate Serana.

He never got the chance.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!"

A massive blast of kinetic energy struck Sahrotaar in his injured neck, sending his abbreviated fire breath into a thick snow bank on Serana's left. The vampire's eyes snapped to the sky as she heard the wingbeats of another dragon, said eyes going doubly-wide when she saw the source. A four-legged dragon with sapphire scales and a saddle descended from the clouds with a fire boiling in his throat and his passenger furiously calling out, "Zhanikan!"

A white-hot stream of flame engulfed Sahrotaar's reeling form as the other dragon beat his wings to bring himself to a hover, his passenger leaping from the saddle and immediately running over to her as she retrieved her fallen weapons.

"Bard," she exhaled half in shock. "So I wasn't seeing things. You…you rode in…on that?" She pointed at the blue dragon.

Bard arched a black, snow-streaked eyebrow. "On him," he corrected, glancing back at his mount. "Meet Sonaanulspaan, one of my closest friends." He smirked. "I've known him since he was just an egg."

Serana's brows shot skyward. "Wait—he's a new dragon?"

He grinned. "I'll tell you more about it later. Right now, you need to get back to the larger battle."

Serana blinked and glanced at a heavily injured Odahviing. "But he—"

"'Spaan and I will take care of your friend. Right now, Ketar's people need you."

Her teeth gritted, and she approached Odahviing with a ginger hand on his neck. He just nodded.

Serana smiled a little. "You're one hell of a fighter, Odahviing. You did great."

With how little he could move without pain, it was all he could do to smile, though his eyes were shining. "Thank you for allowing me a second chance, Lady Serana."

"'Ey, no more of that self-loathing, 'kay? You did the best you could, and if Miraak hadn't cheated, you'd have kicked his ass back to Apocrypha for another ten thousand years."

The dragon chuckled once before hissing and coughing as softly as he could.

Serana laughed for him. "Sorry." She glanced worriedly at Bard. "Try not to make him laugh."

The werewolf smiled and nodded reassuringly. "I'll do my best." Bard put a hand on her shoulder. "Now go."

She nodded sharply and launched herself off the side of the mountain, transforming mid-fall and flapping her wings as she sped back toward Lake Fjalding and the larger battle at hand.

…

"Lyn, drop!"

Agmaer's cry reached his girlfriend just in time for her to hit the snow as a powerful frost spell flew through the space her body had just occupied. It was like another storm of pure cold that sent icicles growing out of anything it touched, a particular piece of magic Agmaer was quickly growing annoyed with, especially since he no longer had any ranged power of his own. Well, except for—

"On your left!" cried Brelyna in warning.

Agmaer whirled around, his weapons at the ready, and underhandedly blocked an incoming blow from an armored Draugr with his wakizashi before burying his axe in its head. A firm kick to the chest dislodged the undead and enabled him to roll away from a pair of incoming ice spikes. He took cover behind a particularly thick tree, popping his head out briefly to take a look at his attacker only to snap back when another spike nearly took out his left eye…again.

"This guy is really starting to annoy!" He looked to Brelyna, who was also taking cover to recover some of her magicka. "Lyn! You've killed one of these things with Ketar—how?"

She frowned and drew her katana in one hand while the other cast an armor spell over her body. "Vampire rules! Remove the head or heart!"

Agmaer's head tilted briefly as he shrugged. "Now that I can do."

He lunged from cover, using an incoming snow drift to mask his approach. His right eye kept him aware of his corporeal surroundings while his left kept him on track to Dukaan, whose aura was flaring with another channeled spell. Agmaer lunged and slid to his left as the aura reached a fever pitch, a six-foot spear made of ice lancing through the air just over his shoulder. Hooking his axe around a passing tree, he used it to reorient himself and regain his footing in time to close the last few feet of distance. His wakizashi's tip dragged through the snow next to him as he ran, and a hard, upward snap of the shortsword sent a small cloud of snow rising to block the Priest's vision once again.

Agmaer's axe followed his sword in the opposite direction, making to cleave Dukaan's head from his shoulders, but stopped mere inches away on the edge of an ethereal sword. The Priest's summoned weapon shunted his back and countered with a slash across the chest that he barely managed to deflect. Two fireballs slammed into Dukaan from behind as Brelyna charged through the trees. The Priest cast an ice spike toward her, the spell shattering against a rapidly constructed magic ward while Agmaer moved back in and swung both his weapons at Dukaan's back. The Priest twirled his sword to guard his back, managing to catch Agmaer's axe and wakizashi, but leaving himself open from the front.

Brelyna cried out in fury as she shifted her katana to a two-handed grip and made to behead Dukaan. The Priest's right hand flared with violet light, a portal erupting between him and the Dark Elf and sending her crashing chest-first into the grotesque body of a Seeker. The Daedra quickly wrapped its sinuous arms around her body, lifting her off the ground and bringing her face-to-face with its mouth opening.

"Lyn!" Agmaer screamed.

"Focus!" Brelyna shouted back, prompting him to whirl around and just manage to stop Dukaan's incoming strike.

Agmaer heard the Seeker take a breath, preparing to exhale that same concussive burst of magic at Brelyna at point-blank range. He turned his head and just managed to catch her bare her teeth in a malevolent grin as she tossed her sword up a bit and caught it underhandedly. She plunged it tip-first down the Seeker's gullet a split-second later, making its spell catch in its throat and the monster release her while it thrashed about, trying to dislodge the weapon. The moment Brelyna's armored boots hit the ground, she used both her hands to channel a powerful fire spell that engulfed the Daedra in an endless stream of white-hot flame.

It was reduced to little more than dust in a matter of seconds, sending Agmaer's eyebrows skyward. He realized his mistake just in time to whirl around and duck under Dukaan's next swipe, his weapons coming up to block an overhead that sent him sliding back through the snow. The Priest's blade ground against his axe and wakizashi as he was steadily pushed back through the snow with just one arm. The other one came up and flared with magic, a sustained frost spell engulfing his body and causing some extremely painful frostbite that ripped a scream from his throat.

His Nord blood was only doing so much to mitigate the damage, and by the rhythm of approaching footsteps behind him, Brelyna knew it. A fearsome battle cry split the air as she leapt for Dukaan, her katana held high in both hands and making for his neck. The masked Priest snapped his head away from the blade, the edge of it just managing to nick him as its wielder dashed past him and came in on his other side. Dukaan ceased his magical assault on Agmaer, instead sending an ice spear at Brelyna and nearly skewering her through the shoulder. She was forced to pull back just to avoid his spells, countering with a few of her own but unable to land a single hit due to the cancellation of their elements.

Seeing Dukaan distracted, Agmaer grit his teeth against the residual pain and forced his numb limbs to move, the force pushing against him giving him an idea. He shifted his weight to one side and suddenly let his arms go lax, Dukaan's summoned blade flying past him when Agmaer's opposing force vanished. The Priest was thrown completely off-balance, finally giving Brelyna the opening she needed to nail him with a fierce explosion of fire. Agmaer followed this with an axe-strike that imbedded the weapon in Dukaan's lower chest. He unsuccessfully tried to wrench it loose, leaving himself open to a backhand that sent him flying back into the snow. Brelyna followed his strike with a barrage of katana-blows that Dukaan deflected with ease and countered with a diagonal swipe at her neck.

Taking a play out of Delphine's book, Brelyna shifted her body so that his ethereal blade skidded off her shoulder plate and punched her sword upward through the Priest's armor, right next to Agmaer's axe. With all the adrenaline running through her system, her aim was off, so she missed his heart, but Dukaan still reeled all the same. Nevertheless, Brelyna had lost her window, and was having a hard time pulling her blade loose. Seeing this, Dukaan took advantage and latched his empty, skeletal hand onto her face, muffling her half-panicked screams when she suddenly found her air cut off.

"Brelyna!"

Agmaer shoved himself upright and twirled his wakizashi into an overhand grip as he made for Dukaan's back, the Priest spinning counterclockwise to strike at him with his sword. Agmaer barely managed to block the incoming blow, the impact sending shocks and vibrations up his arms as he was sent skidding back a bit. Brelyna, for her part, was being shaken around like a ragdoll and repeatedly punched Dukaan's gripping arm in her attempts to struggle. Agmaer grit his teeth and dashed back in with several rapid strikes at various points, the Priest parrying his attacks one-handedly with ease as the boy's assault became more and more desperate.

Thinking quickly, Agmaer locked his shortsword with Dukaan's ethereal sabre and used his spare hand to reach for his axe in an attempt to cleave the Priest's other hand off. He found his left arm perforated when Dukaan shifted his sword to shunt Agmaer's wakizashi to the side while twirling it into a cutting arc that sliced through the underside of the boy's forearm. Agmaer gasped and reeled in pain, the knuckles of his uninjured hand whitening around the grip of his shortsword as his mind raced to think of something else.

"Fus-Ro-Dah!"

The Shout was so sudden and unexpected, Agmaer only just had time to curl himself into a ball before he was thrown twenty feet into a thick snow bank. Dukaan, on the other hand, was pummeled into the ground, forcing him to release Brelyna, who gasped and coughed violently once she was finally released. It took Agmaer a second to realize none of his bones had been shattered, and he looked up to gape at the source of the Voice: a familiar burgundy-scaled dragon sending a pointedly peeved expression his way.

"I swear, you children are absolutely useless." Dolotlah tossed her head haughtily. "I have to do everything myself."

Dukaan pushed himself off the ground and floated before the dragon, voice laced with rage. "You dare—"

"Yol-Toor-Shul!" was her only answer.

The Priest stumbled and staggered away, leaning against a half-scorched tree when his strength began to fail and giving the Blades-in-training a few moments to recover.

"Come on," drawled Dolotlah in an almost bored tone, "back on your feet. I didn't come all this way to watch you two lounge around in the middle of a battle."

Brelyna gasped as she hauled herself upright, leaning against Dolotlah's extended wing for support. "T-Thank you."

The dragon sighed hard. "Thank me by wrapping this up quickly. These insolent Priests believe themselves to be, as you mortals would put it, 'hot shit.'" She bared her teeth in a malevolent smile. "Show them otherwise, if you will."

"Absofreakinlutely," growled Agmaer as he returned to Brelyna's side. He glanced at her. "Your sword is still stuck in his chest."

She nodded to him. "So's your axe. But I have a plan."

Dolotlah grunted. "And how's that worked out for you so far?"

Brelyna threw her an irritated look. "I'll have you know that I almost had him more than once—"

"'Almost' doesn't win battles, whelp. If not for me, you'd be—"

"Ladies, ladies," Agmaer interrupted with one eye on a recovering Dukaan, "you're both pretty. Now if you wouldn't mind—" He glanced at both of them, receiving a small, discreet nod from his girlfriend. "Now!"

Dolotlah struck the snowy ground in front of her with her tail, sending a massive cloud of snow up to obscure the Priest's vision while Agmaer grabbed Brelyna's hand and charged toward Dukaan, his magic eye leading the way. Dukaan's aura flared as he sent a torrent of ice spikes at their dragon friend, the magic crystals flying past the two Blades-in-training as they rapidly closed the distance. The Priest immediately shifted his focus when he saw Agmaer charge through the white smokescreen, bombarding him with an endless stream of cold in an attempt to stop him in his tracks.

As a result, Agmaer felt a thick sheet steadily begin forming around his slowing form. He grit his teeth against the pain and fatigue, forcing his body forward until he catapulted shoulder-first into Dukaan's lower chest, arms wrapped around his midsection and holding the floating Priest in place. Dukaan seemed stunned by the maneuver, if his momentary hesitation was any indication, especially since he noticed that Agmaer was lacking his wakizashi. The Priest's gaze flickered back to the thinning smokescreen a split-second before it parted in the center, revealing a charging Brelyna, who held Agmaer's shortsword underhandedly.

He quickly cast an ice spike at her, but the Dunmer girl twisted away from the spell and charged straight for Agmaer's bent form. Her boots climbed up his back with rapid steps, her legs propelling her high into the air with a smooth backflip as she took aim and came down on Dukaan like a guillotine. The instant before he cast another ice spell, she nailed him in the center of his mask, plunging the Akaviri blade into his skull up to the hilt. Taking advantage, Agmaer shifted his grip to Brelyna's caught sword and tore it loose with a fury-driven twist of his hips. The katana went into Dukaan's heart a moment later, and the undead gave one last hiss of breath before falling back-first into the snow.

Agmaer's teeth bared in a grin as he let out a small, triumphant scoff.

The pair slowly pulled their weapons free, both breathing heavily as they embraced each other in relief. They only had a few moments of respite before Dolotlah's Voice pierced the air once more.

"Laas-Gron-Dein!"

And like that, their aches and fatigue vanished.

"Come," said the dragon as she offered her neck. "There is still more work to be done. I fear this battle is about to take a turn for the worse."

They frowned at each other before mounting up and taking to the skies once more.

…

In retrospect, Kodlak probably hadn't appreciated just how strong his comrade was until Skjor was freed from the shackles of human fatigue and fear. He just kept coming, one relentless sword strike after another, steadily wearing down the Harbinger's defenses. Kodlak couldn't even find a gap to shove his hammer into without leaving himself drastically exposed. He ducked to his left when Skjor came in with a diagonal overhead, the strike skating off the lower haft and pommel of his warhammer and giving him just the opening he needed. Kodlak's hammer drove headfirst into the side of Skjor's knee, caving it in partway and forcing the corpse to operate on just one leg.

With that vulnerability exploited, Kodlak drew his hammer back and came in with a hip-driven horizontal smash to the chest that sent Skjor's reanimated body flying back into the snow. Unfortunately, it didn't quite kill it, and for the first time in his life, the Harbinger found himself cursing Eorlund's steelwork. Snarling, he rushed forth and batted Skjor's blade away in a clockwise-twirling motion that brought his hammer bearing down on the corpse's head. Skjor ducked just enough to avoid the attack and lunged forth on his good leg to tackle his mentor's midsection. Kodlak braced his boots and dug into the snow behind him while one arm wrapped around Skjor's chest.

His back muscles flared with strain as his hips turned to throw Skjor's corpse behind him with his own momentum, following the grapple up with an executioner's strike to Skjor's back. The blow caved in the metal and most of the bones underneath, planting the zombie face-first into the ground. Kodlak charged up for another devastating strike when he heard a feminine scream from behind and whirled around to see Valerica being bathed in white-hot flames. His silvery eyes widened in horror, legs moving before his brain could catch up and sending him sprinting across the snow to save her.

A furious bellow came from his chest as he swung for Ahzidal's chest with everything he had. The Priest, seeming to expect the assault, dashed back through the air and unleashed a fireball at the Harbinger. Kodlak dove to his right and rolled through the snow to avoid the flames, his empty arm wrapping around Valerica's scorched and prone body on the way down and lifting her onto his shoulder on the way up. As fast as his tiring legs could carry him, Kodlak ran carried Valerica away from the cackling Dragon Priest and threw her clear of Ahzidal's range. Spinning on his heel, Kodlak fixed Ahzidal with a predatory glare and let out a low, feral growl.

His muscles burned with fatigue, but as the red-masked Priest taunted him from afar, he knew there would be no rest until this monster perished. He could not save Skjor, but Valerica…he would not fail his friends, not again. A split-second before he lunged at Ahzidal, he felt a hand on his arm stop him and turned his head to see Valerica hauling herself upright, her other hand on her forehead, as if to ward off a headache.

"Milady," Kodlak protested.

"If you tell me to stand back, I swear I'll break your jaw."

He gulped uneasily. "Understood, milady. Then use your magic to harass him from afar while I close the distance, at least until you fully recover."

Valerica's lips pursed, her upper lip twitching with a snarl of self-frustration, but she nodded all the same and prepared spells of frost and lightning.

Ahzidal laughed coarsely when he saw them take up a pincer formation. "Two on one hardly seems fair."

"You murdered my battle-brother and intend to lay waste to my home," snarled Kodlak. "I have no intentions of making this a fair fight."

And with that, the Harbinger of the Companions charged forth, his approach covered by Valerica, who sent a torrent of ice spikes and lightning strikes at the Priest. Suddenly, Ahzidal found his offensive power cut in half, as one hand had to keep a ward up at all times to prevent himself from being pummeled with the vampire's magic. Kodlak, meanwhile, was closing the distance with all speed, his hammer primed to smash. Ahzidal apparently realized he didn't have enough spell power to stop him in his tracks, at least not before Kodlak killed him, because his unoccupied hand shifted from fire magic to violet necromantic energy—that was thrown at the dragon corpse behind him.

Kodlak didn't fully understand what was happening until the scaly beast flared with violet light and runes, and the very ground shook with the sheer backwash of power that erupted from reanimating such a creature. It threw his running pattern off just enough to leave him vulnerable to a firebolt that scorched his left pauldron and hurled him back-first against the ground. The undead dragon drew itself up and let out a roar before striding its way across the ring of flames and making to finish Kodlak off with a burst of fire breath. Several consecutive lightning strikes to the face dissuaded it of this approach, prompting Kodlak to look back and see Valerica charging in to save him.

His head whipped about, half in panic, as the dragon and its master advanced on them, the old man and the wounded vampire. Kodlak's jaw clenched hard, hands tightening into fists while the heat in his blood built to a fever pitch.

Very well. For the sake of those dear to me…

His eyes slipped shut in resignation.

…surge forth and run free, hunter of Hircine.

A low, threatening growl came from his throat as his eyes opened once more, now a vibrant ice-blue, and thick white fur encased his body from head to toe. Kodlak's howl split the air of Solstheim when he launched himself from the ground and pounced on the dragon's head, claws slashing furiously. The undead lizard thrashed its neck about, trying to throw him clear, but he held fast with his jaws clamped around the thing's left horn. His interference allowed Valerica to refocus on Ahzidal, her spells coming fast and hard while she twirled around his return fire. Kodlak lined all the fingers of his left hand up, his claws linking together to form a kind of spearhead that was then driven into the dragon's eye.

At this, the dragon was finally able to throw him clear, but the werewolf rolled and recovered onto all fours as soon as he hit the ground, bloody jowls dripping with dragon blood and saliva as the two beasts faced off. The dragon's fire breath melted the snow where Kodlak had just been when the white wolf took off to the side, zigzagging his way toward the dragon and rapidly closing the distance before he could hope to take off. The wyrm spun on its heel and whipped its tail at Kodlak, the Harbinger leaping upward and catching the appendage with his forepaws. His hold on the dragon's tail allowed him to sink his claws into it over and over again, and when the creature finally slowed down, he leapt for the thing's wings, shredding those as well.

One critical point after another was laid to waste as he steadily took the dragon apart, like a hunter with much larger, stronger prey. For the first time since becoming a werewolf, the Harbinger was glad for his wolf blood. At no other point had that power been so beautifully poised, not just for destruction, but to protect those closest to him. He still vied for the joyous shores of Sovngarde, but if it meant that others would not go there before their time, it was a sacrifice he would gladly make. It was right as he was about to carve a hole in the dragon's neck that he saw Valerica and Ahzidal embroiled in a furious magical duel, the vampire so engrossed in the lock of their spells that she didn't see the half-crippled figure coming up behind her. Eyes widening in alarm, Kodlak coiled up his body and lunged for Valerica's back in a gigantic leap.

And a second later, Skjor's Skyforged sword pierced Kodlak's chest instead of Valerica's heart.

Kodlak felt a fierce burning sensation fill his chest as the blade scraped against his ribs, the werewolf's arms just managing to stop Skjor from thrusting it in further. The Harbinger's eyes met his friend's corrupted violet ones, and saw something behind them that hadn't been there before. And then, in a hoarse, rasping voice that carried just a trace of his battle-brother, he spoke.

"E-End…me…please."

Kodlak gasped and hacked for air as his transformed vocal cords just managed to form his reply. "Goodbye…old friend."

His arms snapped up to Skjor's head and wrenched his neck a hundred degrees in the wrong direction. A pronounced hissing sound pierced the air as the Companion's body disintegrated into ash, his soul finally allowed to pass on to Hircine's eternal hunt. Kodlak felt himself smile.

If anyone would enjoy such an afterlife, it would be Skjor.

And then a searing pain reminded him of the sword in his chest, prompting him to slowly pull it loose and collapse to the ground. His body receded to human form a moment later, most of his heavier plate having been thrown off during the transformation, and amid the pain and gasps for breath, he was distantly aware of Valerica screaming his name. A hiss of displaced snow indicated her arrival at his side, her hands around his neck and shifting to see him better. His eyes met hers through the blurring of his vision, those sunset glows holding his attention far better than the words he could see her trying to scream at him. He just kept smiling as she placed her left palm against his wound, a surge of magic stopping the bleeding but none of the pain. Kodlak's bloody fingers drifted up to her face, his index leaving a drop of his blood on her lower lip as she stared at him, wide-eyed with something akin to panic.

Then his eyes drifted shut, and he passed out in her arms.

…

Valerica stared down at the unconscious Harbinger with her heart hammering painfully in her chest. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, only focus on the dying man in her grasp with the realization that they were flanked on either side by a powerful fire mage and a fire-breathing undead dragon. And of all things, she was a vampire, and all-too-vulnerable to their magic. Her teeth ground together as her grip around Kodlak's ailing body tightened. Suddenly, she understood the haunted look in her daughter's eyes when Serana had told her about Ketar's near-death experience at the hands of Vyrthur.

And the fierce, profound rage that followed.

Slowly, body trembling with a mix of fear and anger, Valerica set Kodlak's body down and turned to face her enemies. It had been…centuries since she had unleashed this side of her. A part of her was afraid she'd be too out of practice to make a difference. The rest didn't care, as long as she got to tear the both of them apart. Both the dragon and its master advanced on her, the former taking a breath while the latter prepared another fire spell. An instant before she sprang into action, a sonic boom sounded from above, catching everyone's attention just in time to see a red-gold form drop on the dragon like a meteor.

The color scheme alone gave her a hint as to the identity of the interloper, but the instant she saw the cloak, she knew. While a part of her rebelled at his interference, the rest was roiling in sadistic glee as she turned her full attention to Ahzidal. The vampire matron took one slow, strutting step after the next, advancing on the halted Priest with a threatening smile.

"Keep that thing muzzled," she ordered the armored figure currently pinning the dragon. "He's mine."

And with a surge of darkness and a scream like a banshee, Valerica's transformed body flew toward Ahzidal. Her red cloak flapped in the wind, the golden crown on her head glinting in the sun, and the fire in her blood surged with one purpose.

Kill.

Her left hand summoned a ward that completely nullified Ahzidal's stream of flame.

Kill.

Her claws slashed the Priest's wrists, disabling his casting hands, and her taloned feet grabbed his ankles before using her body weight to hurl him back-first into the ground.

Kill!

Ahzidal tried to flee by flying away, but Valerica's left hand shot out and grabbed his leg, dragging him back down to the ground. Her barbed wings each stabbed into one of his wrists as her feet planted in the snow, her right arm taking hold of his other ankle. As one, all four limbs pulled in opposite directions, Valerica's fangs bared savagely as, with a monstrous roar and burst of strength driven by near-madness, she quite literally tore Ahzidal limb from limb. Still, this wasn't quite enough for her, so she grabbed the Priest's masked head with one head while the other held what was left of his torso, and pulled his head off too. Her foot crushed his rib cage, and she threw the remaining parts of his corpse into the ring of flames for good measure.

Her lungs heaved with heavy breaths as she stood in the aftermath of the carnage, head snapping toward the armored figure standing next to a now-dead dragon. His helmet was off now, allowing his salt-and-pepper hair to drift in the wind and revealing the mildly amused look on his face.

"Are you done?" he asked with mirth in his voice.

Valerica's eyes narrowed as she shifted back to human form. "Are you?"

Lord Zhanikan cast a glance at the dragon's corpse, which suddenly began decomposing into arcs of energy. Valerica's eyes widened when those arcs flew toward him, as if called to his form. Her jaw dropped as well when he held up a hand and stopped the energy in its tracks, that same hand dismissing it with a gesture and sending it dissipating into the air. A moment and a sigh later, Zhanikan turned to Kodlak with a worried look in his eyes, approaching the Harbinger as Valerica did the same. They both bent over his wounded form, exchanging a long look before the sound of an explosion from the direction of Lake Fjalding caught Zhan's attention.

The king turned back to her with a torn look on his face.

Valerica reluctantly tipped her head in assent. "Go. I'll take care of him."

Zhanikan frowned and nodded as he straightened up. "Kodlak is a dear friend. Please see that you do."

His honey-gold eyes hardened as they turned to the horizon, a section at the back of his armored collar shifting to permit a series of overlapping plates to unfold and morph around his features. Two seconds later, his retracted helmet had re-formed, leaving only the faint glint of his eyes visible. He bent down some distance from them, the fingers of his right hand splayed out toward the ground, and for just a moment, Valerica could see the snow around him lift and spiral, as if caught in some unseen current. Then he launched himself into the air, and another boom split the sky as he flew off to battle.

…

All told, Zahkriisos was a worthy opponent. Not, however, worthy enough to last long against a berserker with legendary magical weapons, a Nightingale, and a Knight-Paladin of Auri-El. His lightning strikes were caught by Lydia's Spellbreaker while Gelebor pounded him with sun bolts from afar and Brynjolf continuously sapped his energy with a life siphon. The Elf kept up the pressure to give his melee-oriented comrades the opportunity they needed to close the distance, but Zahkriisos was not about to give up. He snatched up a weapon from one of his fallen Draugr, an ancient axe, in one hand to ward off their close strikes while his other hand tried to counter with bursts of lightning magic.

And for a time, he managed to hold them at bay, but even he knew his end was inevitable. As such, he waited until Lydia and Brynjolf were close enough to kill him and executed a channeled spell that sent an electric explosion erupting from his body. Arcs of electricity surged through them as his lightning cloak bathed them in magic, flashes of their bones just visible in the massive eruption of energy. Quick thinking by Gelebor and a concussive spell based on Serana's kinetic bolt sent the lovers flying out of Zahkriisos' range, making himself the Priest's only opponent left standing.

Zahkriisos wasted no time in pressing his advantage, retrieving his fallen axe and flying at Gelebor at maximum speed. The Paladin snapped a mithril mace from his belt and deflected his first blow, ducking under a second and twirling his body away from Zahkriisos' relentless melee assault. With his empty hand, he cast a sun bolt at the Priest's back, searing another hole into his armor and causing him to roar in rage as he whirled toward Gelebor. The last of the Snow Elves grit his teeth, feeling his lack of practice showing as his fatigue began rising by startling margins.

His mace and defenses were battered, over and over, until the weapon was struck from his grasp and sent flying into the snow. Laughing, Zahkriisos brought his axe down on Gelebor's head, trying to cave in his skull, but the Elf threw his mithril-encased arms up in an X that stopped the weapon in its tracks. Zahkriisos continued to push against him, his boots sliding across the ice as he was driven further and further toward the hole the Priest had made earlier. One final push sent Gelebor careening into the freezing cold water, his form vanishing from sight a moment later. Zahkriisos snorted derisively as he dismissed Gelebor from his considerations and made his way back to the unconscious couple.

Sparks danced between his fingers as he approached them, his axe discarded and hands rising as he gathered enough power to reduce them both to ash.

He never got the chance.

The ice right in front of him exploded with light as a figure bright as the sun flew out of the water and hovered before him. The silvery glint of his mithril armor had risen to a blinding degree, the red gem in his crown glowing as brightly as the magic in his hands. And the look in his ice-blue eyes was one of pure righteous fury. Gelebor's hands thrust forth, sending a ball of light straight at Zahkriisos' mask and searing his head from his shoulders. Point of fact, all that was left was a smoking hole on the undead's neck where his head used to be. Slowly, Gelebor's body drifted back to the ground, and he planted his boots on the ice before turning to Brynjolf and Lydia.

His armored form crouched over theirs for a moment, worry etched into his features until the rapid flapping of wings caught his attention, and he whirled around with a spell at the ready. He stopped in his tracks when he realized who it was, and bowed as Serana reverted to human form. Her concern was just as evident as his as she bent over the bodies of her fallen friends.

A relieved sigh left her lungs a moment later. "They're okay. Just won't be waking up for a while." She transformed back into a vampire lord and picked them up, one in each arm. "Thank you for looking after them, but right now, we need you on the front lines." She hefted her friends. "I'll get these troublemakers to a healer."

Gelebor bowed reverently and pulled the mail mask back up over his features as he made for the heart of the fight.

"And Gelebor…"

He turned back to see Serana's glowing eyes shining with gratitude.

"…thank you for answering his call."

The Paladin simply bowed again and took off while Serana flew in the opposite direction.

…

From the moment they'd both triggered their Dragon Aspects, Ketar had made a point to keep their fight in close quarters, to stay right up in Miraak's face so as to limit his options for magic or using his sword like a whip. At present, they were pacing around each other almost within weapons reach, just a short step away. Momentary tension on Miraak's part prompted Ketar to lunge back a step and swing his sword in a circular motion that carried it behind and above him, then crashing down on Miraak's stabbing blade. The maneuver sent both their swords into the ground, Ketar's on top, and he used that position to thrust at Miraak's neck.

The other Dragonborn jerked his head to the side, avoiding the strike, and twirled his body clockwise in a slash meant to perforate Ketar's back. He shifted Alduin's Bane to guard his shoulderblades, turning counter-clockwise on his hip and moving his body around Miraak's sword to shift his back-block into a wing-block. From there, he used a Blades maneuver to counter with a falling diagonal swipe aimed just below Miraak's rib cage. They spun and danced around each other's strikes in an intricate pattern of ducks, parries, and ripostes. The fire and thrill of battle sang in Ketar's blood the longer they fought, and if he had to guess, Miraak was enjoying their duel just as much, if for vastly different reasons.

Ketar drew a breath and unleashed his Voice in a burst of Unrelenting Force.

To which Miraak countered with, "Feim!" allowing the blast of concussive energy to pass right through his ethereal form. It also allowed Ketar to lunge forward and stick his sword through Miraak's chest in preparation for when he became solid again. The First Dragonborn just managed to shift his body in time to avoid being skewered, in a position that allowed him to keep Ketar's blade tucked under his left arm, which then trapped his arms in place while he prepared to thrust his own sword through Ketar's neck. Ketar took a play out of Miraak's book and went ethereal, which didn't quite have the effect he'd wanted, since both went out of physical phase at once due to their physical contact.

It did allow Ketar to use his new near-weightless form to pop his hips upward and wrap both legs around Miraak's attacking arm. With a turn of his hips and a growl of effort, Ketar sent them both tumbling to the ground by folding Miraak in half as soon as they were corporeal again. He lost hold of his sword somewhere in the scramble, and made sure Miraak did the same when he backhanded the other Dragonborn in the wrist and followed it up with a cross to the face. Miraak grunted and shifted his legs to tangle around Ketar's attacking arm, grappling him off and following with a ground kick to the chest.

Ketar rolled away, retracting his cloak for easier movement and dashing back in with a barrage of rapid-fire jabs aimed at Miraak's face and chest. He dodged most of them, their ethereal dragon armor roiling with every near-touch and flashing with light whenever their bodies made contact. Miraak bent over backwards while Ketar was mid-cross, his back leg coming up to catch the younger man in the lower ribs a split-second before the other shot up to snap across his jaw. Miraak's right hand braced against the stony ground as his momentum threw him into a slanted cartwheel, his feet hitting the ground a moment later and catapulting him back toward Ketar with a series of palm strikes to the chest and gut.

Ketar felt the wind steadily knocked out of him with each hit, the same way his stamina was drained when Miraak's sword nicked him. When Miraak tried to finish his combo with a double-palm to the chest, Ketar caught his wrists and stopped his advance with a thrusting knee to the chest. He shifted that same leg behind Miraak's and pushed forward in an attempt to trip him, but Miraak managed to slip his grip and grab him behind the head with one hand while the other knife-handed his neck hard. A momentary lapse in oxygen flow to the brain sent Ketar reeling and stumbling away, leaving him vulnerable to a spinning trip-kick that laid him out on the ground chest-first.

Before he could even think of getting back up, Miraak axe-kicked him in the back, just missing his spine, and followed that with a blast of Unrelenting Force that pummeled his body into a new crater and all but shattered his Dragon Aspect. Ketar coughed and gasped for breath, black spots swimming over his vision as he pulled his mask and hood back and fought to stay conscious. He was distantly aware of Miraak's movement toward the book at the end of the platform, and pushed himself to a kneel with shaking limbs.

"I appreciate the valiance of your attempt to stop me, Ketar, I really do." Miraak hovered his hand over the book, a green ring made of runes and Daedric sigils surrounding his hand and the tome. "Your only mistake was believing I had to be on the outside to initiate the portal. Now that the All-Maker Stones are completely under my control, I have all the power I need to unleash my army from in here."

Ketar's blue eyes widened in alarm.

Miraak's right hand flexed and snapped toward the book, creating a massive explosion of green light far off in the distance and prompting a throng of monstrous roars to sound from that location. "This battle is as good as over, Ketar." He slowly turned back to the younger man, arms splayed outward. "You have lost." One of the dark pools of liquid on the platform emitted a tentacle that wrapped around Miraak's sword and threw it back into his grasp. "Your friends will die in agony, a glorious immolation that shall serve as my coronation." He pointed his sword at Ketar. "But you? You're all mine."

Ketar's teeth gritted as he telekinetically recalled his blade, the dragonbone sword dragging across the stones with a low screech. "You're wrong. They'll win. They'll find a way." He used Alduin's Bane to push himself upright, then hefted the sword with heavy breaths. "They always do."

Miraak's head cocked. "Your Thu'um is strong, mal Dovahkiin, but is it strong enough to drive so few to overpower so many?"

"Numbers don't win battles." He grinned confidently. "Heroes do."

Miraak laughed and twirled his blade downward, the whip-blade scoring a gash in the stones below. "Then come, and let us finally determine which of us is right!"

Ketar's jaw clenched as he felt his Dragon Aspect leech away, sending a silent prayer of thanks to Akatosh for getting him this far, and one of supplication to protect his family on the outside.

For better or worse, father…I hope I've made you proud.

…

When Lord Zhanikan touched down on the battlefield, the Companions, College mages, Thieves Guild, and Brotherhood were finishing up the latest wave of undead and Daedra. A minute or two later, Bard had returned from Mount Moesring in werewolf form only to transform back just in time to see an eruption of magic from the peak of Miraak's temple.

"That can't be good," said a nearby Companion.

Tolfdir, Ketar's second at the College, frowned and shook his head uneasily. "I'm afraid it isn't. That was another portal just now, and by the sound of it—"

One glance was enough to confirm that the hills were now crawling with Miraak's forces.

"—a massive one."

Zhanikan frowned and retracted his helmet into his armor. "Your mages have networked many spells today. Do they have something that can destroy this many?"

Tolfdir's head shook. "Even if they did, the sheer strain of casting it would kill them."

"Not if it were focused through a medium of sufficient power. That would allow you to both cast without adverse effects and properly direct the energy."

Esbern stepped forward with a shrug. "But where would we find such an object, and who would carry it? That person would have to be almost as strong as the medium itself to be able to direct the energy, much less survive it."

"I can do it."

Zhan and the others turned to a new arrival in silvery white metal armor, a pair of pale, pointed ears just visible under the crown that served as his helmet.

"I can be the medium."

Esbern looked the stranger over with a suspicious gaze. "And who in Talos' name are you?"

He stepped forward confidently. "Gelebor, a friend of Ketar Dov, and the bearer of Auriel's Armor."

Zhanikan's eyebrows hiked skyward as he laid a hand on the man's shoulder. "I appreciate the offer, but—"

"No buts. I am a Knight-Paladin of Auri-El." He waved at the approaching army of monsters. "Casting such demons from this world is what I was born to do."

"The strain of such an effort could—and likely will—kill you," said Tolfdir.

With a resigned sigh, he pulled the mail mask down and revealed pale, Elven features. "As one who has sat on the sidelines of history for too long…" his eyes hardened, "that is a risk I am willing to take. The Armor of Auriel is an artifact of the highest magic, forged of the purest mithril and enchanted by the greatest Prelates of the Snow Elves. It will survive the casting, even if I do not."

The old mages exchanged a look as Zhanikan frowned deeply.

"Are you sure of this?" asked the king. "If you have any doubts, I can do this in your place."

At that, everyone's stares shifted to him.

His lips pursed tightly. "I've done such things in the past, once or twice, though never, I think, to quite this magnitude; and my armor is of similar quality and origin. So I ask you, Paladin…do you have any doubts?"

The Elf smiled and shook his head. "None."

Zhan nodded slowly, then turned to Esbern and Tolfdir. "Then get to work on that spell. The rest of us will buy you the time you need."

"I'm sorry," protested Esbern, "who are you exactly?"

"He's a friend," said an approaching female voice. Serana smiled at Zhan and Bard. "And he has my trust."

Esbern frowned and bowed his head. "Very well." He turned back to Tolfdir. "Any ideas, friend?"

The Alteration master stroked his gray beard as the rest of the troops made up a new defensive line. "What about…"

"The banishing spell!"

They both whirled toward the new voice, spotting Brelyna and Agmaer climbing off Dolotlah's back.

Tolfdir blinked. "Of course! They're all undead or Daedra! A banishing spell of that magnitude could send them all packing quite nicely!"

"Assuming the medium is as powerful as he claims," said Esbern with a nod at Gelebor.

Gelebor's head bowed slightly. "It will work, I assure you. Simply have your mages focus all their energy on me, and I shall do the rest."

The old mages nodded and made for the rest of the College's students and faculty while Gelebor stayed to guard them. Agmaer, Brelyna, and the rest of the front-line fighters rushed to their forces' defensive line, all forming up behind Lord Zhanikan, even Serana.

"We hold them!" Zhan shouted to the troops. "Here and now! Let none pass!"

Serana glanced his way as the golden plates of his helmet extended once more and encased his head in alchemic metal, the rest drawing weapons and facing off with the first wave of approaching Draugr and Daedra. Bard also drew his adamantium sword instead of his spear, the tip dragging back and forth across the snow in front of him as every muscle in his body hankered for a fight. Serana smirked at his fervor, her basket-hilt leaving its sheath along with Sunset's Bite. A cluster of over a dozen Draugr led by two Seekers and supplemented by a hulking Lurker approached first, Brelyna and Agmaer flanking Serana on either side like her bodyguards.

With Brynjolf and Lydia out of commission, she supposed they were.

Zhanikan's sword left its sheath, its gold-encrusted edge glowing with otherworldly light as he held it at his side. His other hand touched the amulet at his neck again, Serana noticing for the first time that it was actually fixed to a slot in his chestplate, as if it were part of the armor itself. The clouds above thickened and crackled with thunder, and a second later, a dozen lances of white lightning struck the enemy like celestial javelins. Serana had no idea how he was doing that. Obviously, the amulet was enchanted, but not even Ketar had that kind of control when it came to lightning storms.

Bard was the first to surge forward, making for the least-touched cluster of enemies and twirling his body in a triple-spiral that turned his adamantium blade into a whirlwind of death. Draugr and Seekers lost their limbs and heads one after another, wherever he went. When he so much as twitched his wrist, his sword just moved, his strikes coming faster and harder until the blade was just an endless silvery blur. Even Serana was having a hard time keeping track of his sword's movements, though a second after he smashed into the enemy lines, she had problems of her own.

Two Draugr lunged at her from opposite sides, one with a spear, the other a warhammer. Brelyna blasted one in the face with a firebolt while Agmaer threw his axe into the head of the other. Serana finished off the scorched Draugr with a slash to the neck and turned to the next enemy with a parry and riposte that pierced its spine. Her underhanded dagger slashed its head off an instant later, the body thrown into another squad of Draugr and used to slow them long enough for Zhanikan to blast them with an explosive spell that reduced them to their component limbs.

The man himself engaged each new threat like a walking tidal wave, an unstoppable force of nature that rolled over anything in its way. Serana couldn't tell exactly how that sword of his was enchanted, but if she had to guess, with the way anyone he struck went flying or was torn in half, it made every blow hit with the force of a dozen. Agmaer and Brelyna suddenly stepped between her and an incoming squad of Draugr, working together and crisscrossing their strikes to expertly take apart their enemy. Serana couldn't help but marvel at how far they'd come together, how far all of them had come, even as she dispatched a Seeker with her sword down its gullet and her dagger hacking off its arms.

The Lurker that had escorted the rest of the incoming forces surged forward with a roar, and Serana bared her teeth in a predatory smile as she coiled up to meet it. Someone else got there first, someone with a lot more hair than her. Bard's lupine form dashed in front of the Lurker as it was about to take a swing at a group of Imperial soldiers, his clawed hands catching its arms by the wrists and stopping it in its tracks. The two creatures snarled and growled at each other in the midst of their struggle until Serana saw Bard make the werewolf equivalent of a smile.

And he let go.

The Lurker went stumbling past him as he twisted away and shifted back to human form, the Daedra unknowingly making a beeline for Lord Zhanikan. He finished dispatching the armored Draugr in his grip with a beheading backhand strike, then turned toward the approaching monster with a cold look in his just-visible eyes. Their honey gold flared with what Serana could've sworn was a twinge of glowing red as Zhan cocked his head partway to one side, sword held loosely at his hip. The Lurker hissed and snarled at him, then drew its right hand back and made to punch his head off with one rage-driven blow.

Serana lunged forward, her perfect gem at the ready and about to form a shield to protect him when he reached out with his empty left hand—

Boom!

—and stopped the Lurker's blow in its tracks…with one hand.

Serana's jaw dropped and eyes went double-wide as the creature—which was easily twice his size—struggled and growled at its inability to move its fist either forward or backward. Zhan's helmeted head slowly cocked in the other direction, the Daedra meeting his gaze, and his left hand shook for a moment before clenching into a fist—crushing the bones within its grip like dry twigs. As it reeled and shrieked in pain, clutching its injured limb, Zhan splayed his arms out to his sides and began hovering, his red cloak billowing all around him as he rose above the Lurker. He forced it to look up at him before shifting his sword to a two-handed grip.

In the blink of an eye, he dropped, straight down, a flash of silvery light indicating the afterimage of his sword's path. Two seconds later, the Lurker fell to the ground in two pieces, perfectly bisected from the crown of its head to groin. Zhanikan cast it one last look before returning his attention to the battle. An uncontrollable nervous shiver ran down Serana's spine as she stared at his golden-armored form. Suddenly, his gaze snapped to her, and she gulped in reflex.

"We need to fall back!" he shouted, voice slightly distorted by the helmet. "The spell is almost ready!"

She blinked in confusion. "How do you—"

His empty hand pointed behind them, and when she turned, she had to wonder how she hadn't noticed it before. A gigantic array of glowing circles and runes had formed across the lines of mages, with Gelebor, Esbern, and Tolfdir at the very center. Brelyna had already fallen back and added her magic to the mix. After casting one last glance at the approaching torrent of enemies, Serana decided to do the same.

Gelebor stood at the front of the array, palm against fist, with his eyes closed in focus. His armor was already glowing so brightly, Serana could hardly stand being near it, much less looking at it. Still, she reached out and poured every scrap of her magicka into the mages' array, feeling the tax of the draw sap the strength from her bones until she got a handle on the flow of energy. Her breathing was soon labored and in need of constant management if she wanted to remain standing, leaving her wondering how on Nirn the lesser mages were even conscious at this point.

She got her answer when she saw the golden-armored figure standing directly behind Gelebor, his cloak flapping in the wind, both hands overlapped and extended toward the Elven Paladin.

"Let us send these foul creatures back to the abyss they crawled from," said Gelebor firmly.

Serana huffed and smiled. "Amen."

The Elf glanced over his shoulder and sent a smile her way, then exhaled hard and nodded as he faced the enemy. "I'm ready."

Tolfdir gave a nod to the other mages. "Begin!"

Tolfdir and Esbern flanked Gelebor on either side, harnessing the magicka surrounding his armor and body and using him to channel a massive combined spell of violet and cyan energy. Serana kept pouring her magicka into the Paladin, the Armor of Auriel glowing brighter and brighter with every second. As the spells channeling increased in power, Serana's vampire hearing just managed to pick up the quiet words passing from his lips.

"The mantras of Auri-El: balance in all things."

Gelebor's feet began to lift off the ground, his glowing form hovering just a few feet above the snow.

"Fury, tempered by compassion."

His fist opened slowly, palm to the back of his fingertips as his arms drifted apart.

"Confidence, but with humility."

His armor vibrated violently with the power it was being forced to contain.

"Love, balanced by wisdom."

His arms splayed outward, palms-up, hands and armor blindingly bright. His eyes, now glowing the same as his armor, snapped open; and his voice boomed and echoed alongside another familiar one. A fatherly one.

"In the name of Auri-El, of Akatosh—"

His arms curved upward, right hand curling into a fist once more as it pressed against his other palm.

"—begone!"

With an otherworldly roar, Gelebor came crashing down fist-first into the ground, the light of his armor unleashed all at once in an all-consuming tidal wave of power that surged over the slopes of Solstheim. The torrent of silvery energy flew over the snow and rock, over the Draugr and Daedra, cleansing everything it touched and washing away the filth and corruption of Miraak and Hermaeus Mora. Seekers and Lurkers were banished to Apocrypha, the trapped souls of the Draugr severed from their rotting corpses. In one devastating burst of holy magic, the remains of Miraak's non-draconic army were banished from the mortal realm of Mundus—never to be seen again.

…

Losing his Dragon Aspect in such a devastating magical beatdown took an incredible toll on Ketar's body. At no point was that more apparent than when Miraak, whose ethereal armor had also faded, strode up to him and began battering him with hip-driven sword strikes. Their enchanted blades crashed together, over and over again, and each time, Ketar felt himself shaken to the very bones. His teeth chattered with the sheer force of it, and he felt like any second, he was going to drop of exhaustion. He just managed to stop one of Miraak's overhead strikes, the rogue Dragonborn pushing him across the stones as Ketar braced his hands on either end of his sword.

Miraak took advantage of his weakness and snap-kicked him in the gut, bending him over in a fit of violent coughs. His pommel struck Ketar in the back, sending him crashing chest-first to the ground and writhing around in pain and exhaustion. Miraak paced around him, voice agitated and laced with frustration.

"Do you know how long I have been waiting for this moment? For the day of my return?"

Miraak kicked Ketar in the ribs, sending him rolling away with a groan.

"An eternity! Banished from my home."

Another kick.

"Betrayed by those I love."

He swung his blade upward, Ketar just managing to deflect the strike, but finding himself laid out by a kick to the chest.

"All for wanting to liberate them from the monsters our father created."

Ketar coughed hard, gasping for air as he forced himself to sit up. "You…you didn't do it for them."

Miraak stared at him, his visible eye blinking once. "Maybe not." He shrugged, a smile in his voice. "But it's a little late for regrets."

Ketar sagged, as if to collapse, then lunged his arm forward and up in a surprise stab. Miraak beat him to it, and a lance of searing pain pierced his lower side, just missing his kidney, but making his grip around the Bane go limp anyhow. The sword clattered to the ground as Miraak grabbed him by the collar and threw him across the platform. Ketar gasped and pushed his palms against the stones, trying to clamber to his feet.

"I will conquer your world, Ketar," growled Miraak as he strode toward Ketar's prone form. "Everything you love will be mine…" his left hand shot out and fisted in Ketar's hair as he hissed into his ear, "even if I have to break them the old-fashioned way."

Ketar's bloodied teeth bared as he bellowed and launched himself toward Miraak, the Blade of Woe flying from its sheath and slashing at his enemy's chest and neck with rapid swipes. Miraak tried to use his sword, but Ketar kept his empty hand pressing back against Miraak's armed wrist. Miraak jabbed him in the ribs, but between the rage and already-searing pain in his opposite side, he barely felt it. A head-butt sent intense vibrations through Miraak's mask, followed by a knee to the gut and downward stab toward his shoulder. Miraak juked away and elbowed him in the ribs, prompting Ketar to grab him by the back of the neck to keep him in place.

Ketar stabbed at Miraak's face, missing when he jerked his head in the opposite direction, and followed up by slashing toward the side of his head. Miraak ducked under the Blade and shoved his shoulder down in an attempt at a tackle. Ketar braced his legs against the ground further back, halting Miraak's advance, and kept his left arm locked around the rogue Dragonborn's sword arm while he tried to get his dagger into a good stabbing position. Miraak's low position allowed him to grab Ketar's leg at the knee, lifting the limb to throw him to the ground. Ketar turned it back on him when he threw his hips left and turned his backward plant into a sideways roll, throwing Miraak into a skid that carried him through one of the dark pools.

The spray of liquid that resulted from the impact blinded Miraak long enough for Ketar to take aim, the Blade of Woe flying through and nailing him in the shoulder. Miraak yelled and growled as he ripped the knife out, Ketar feeling the wound in his side seal shut as the Blade's magic took effect.

"You will not take this from me!" Miraak bellowed, pointing his sword at Ketar and swiping it at his legs.

Ketar corkscrewed over the blade and landed in a half-crouch, eyes alight with pure fire. "You already gave it up…along with your humanity." He straightened up and drew a deep breath before unleashing his Voice once more. "Mul-Qah-Diiv!"

His skintight ethereal armor instantly encased every inch of him including his face, his now-scaly skin and glowing eyes the only indications that something had changed.

Miraak's visible eye was doubly wide. "That's impossible."

Ketar's hand snapped to the side and recalled Alduin's Bane to his grasp a moment before he snapped the sword out to the side, its blade erupting with magic and rapidly wreathed in ethereal blue flames. Then he just waited for Miraak to rush him, and one move flowed into the next as he surrendered to the power inside him. As with Alduin, Miraak's rage and desperation for victory drove his every move, and that made him all-too-predictable. Ketar danced and pirouetted around his enemy's strikes, their blades clashing and sparking as rational thought vacated their duel and instinct took over.

Suddenly, Miraak let off a series of whip-strikes from opposing sides, one cascading after the next and forcing Ketar to angle his body in a way that threw him off-balance to avoid them.

"Ven-Gaar-Nos!"

Miraak's sudden Shout sent Ketar flying through the air, his cloak deploying and arresting his haphazard motion enough for him to refocus on Miraak and see him fire off a powerful lightning spell. Thinking quickly, Ketar threw up a ward using the Bane's sapphire as a focus, but it didn't solidify rapidly enough. The resulting shattering sent him flipping backward, the Dragonborn just managing to land in a rough recovery roll on the far side of the platform.

"Wuld-Nah-Kest!"

Ketar's Whirlwind Sprint carried him straight toward Miraak, his sword held out to the side and nearly carving through his opponent's chest before Miraak just managed to lunge away. The moment his feet were on the ground, he thrust the Bane at Miraak and kept twirling his body with the other Dragonborn's deflect in an endless spiral of diagonal strikes. Amid one of his flashier pirouettes, Miraak dive-rolled away and blasted him in the back with a lightning bolt. It wasn't enough to hurt him that much, but it stunned him all the same and allowed Miraak to score a deep gash on his back in a passing cut.

Ketar ducked and performed a backhanded swing on instinct, managing to slice a thin line across Miraak's left calf. They both lunged at once, swords skating off each other as they dashed past. And then they were back-to-back, just within arms' reach, with no time to dodge and only one move left to play. So they both whirled to their left, their blades couched at their sides in preparation to thrust. Tandem cries of fury erupted from their throats as they finally managed to face each other, their swords stabbing forth like opposing bolts of lightning.

A single wet thunk pierced the air as their cries echoed through the empty space of Apocrypha, heavy breathing the only thing that split the otherwise silent air. Their eyes met in an intense lock, each finding the same fire burning in the other's gaze. Blood dripped from both their blades, and for a few moments, they both seemed completely frozen in time.

And then Miraak let out a single wet sputter when Ketar twisted Alduin's Bane further into his gut, the younger man wincing at the pain of Miraak's blade digging into his grasping fingers.

His left hand had caught the Daedric sword mid-thrust and directed it away from his vital organs at the last possible second while his right made sure the Bane struck true. With a body-wide tremble, Ketar brought his lips up to where Miraak's ears would've been on the other side of the mask and lowered his voice to a malevolent hiss.

"That was for Lizette, you son of a bitch."

Releasing his own sword, Ketar jabbed his elbow into Miraak's throat, then knife-handed his armed wrist and ripped the sword from his grasp. In the same counter-clockwise motion, he spun his body into another stab that sent Miraak's own blade through the left side of his chest. He met Miraak's gaze once more, snarling with vengeful fury.

"And this is for Serana."

Ketar's right hand tensed around the sword's hilt in instinct, prompting the sickly green blade to more than triple in length and punch the rest of the way through Miraak's body. The impaled Dragonborn gasped and sputtered for breath, his hands spasming and grasping at Ketar's face.

Miraak just managed to gasp out a few words amid his agony. "W-What—are—you?"

Ketar smiled malevolently as he shifted his left hand to the hilt of Alduin's Bane, getting right up in Miraak's face as he snarled his answer. "I'm the Last Dragonborn."

And with that, he shoved Miraak off the Bane by the hilt of the Daedric sword, effectively staking him on his own weapon when the tip of the extended blade hit stone and served as a pillar against the ground. Ketar whipped his sword into his right hand and twirled it upright, then snapped it down and away to shake off Miraak's blood. He smoothly returned it to the scabbard on his back with a twirling flourish and a slow sheathing corresponding with a long, calming breath. The sharp exhale at the end prompted him to send the last few inches of the blade snapping into its sheath, and his right arm fell to his side a moment later as he held the gaze of his dying enemy.

An eruption of darkness in the air behind Miraak's body immediately caught Ketar's attention and made him scowl.

"What the hell do you want?" Ketar growled.

The grotesque manifestation of Hermaeus Mora hummed in consideration. "You have done well indeed, despite your rejection of my gifts." His largest eye shifted to fix Miraak with a judging gaze. "You might have learned something from him…had your arrogance not prevented it."

"M-Mora," he gasped out. "Give me…the strength to beat him…and I shall give you…whatever you desire."

The Daedric Lord hummed once, rather aggressively, before giving his reply. "Do you think me blind because I did not interfere directly? You harbored fantasies of rebellion against me. That much was clear from the start. This is simply your just dessert." His eye looked back to a still-scowling Ketar. "His armor, his blade, the staff…all yours now. I only require his soul."

At this Ketar snarled and stepped forward, hands clenched into fists. "No. His gear, his knowledge, everything you gave him—keep it. I don't want any of your tainted gifts. But his soul?" He smirked malevolently, right hand drifting to a pouch at the back of his belt. "His soul is mine."

At this, Miraak's gaze turned to him, his visible green eye widening in alarm. "W-What are you playing at?"

Ketar just smiled wider. "I'm just keeping my promise, Miraak. After all…" his right hand came back into view, revealing the violet, crystalline Black Star, "I said this would hurt."

Miraak's ailing body began to shake more violently, his head whipping back and forth between Ketar and Mora. "Mora! Lord Mora! Please!"

"If it's any consolation…"

"Stop him! Now!"

Ketar's eyes glinted with cruel fire as he held the Black Star in front of his chest. "…you will be far more useful in death…than you ever were in life."

Miraak had no more words, only a frightened, pleading stare that met Ketar's cold gaze.

A single breath passed into Ketar's lungs before he unleashed his Voice. "Rii-Vaaz-Zol!"

A powerful arc of violet light speared into Miraak's body, the First Dragonborn screaming in agony as his soul was forcefully ripped from its vessel. Arcs of pure energy flowed from his bloody form into the Black Star—the only soul gem powerful enough to hold the soul of a dragon. The backwash of such a transfer, on the other hand, now that was enough to shake Ketar and nearly enough to cave in his right arm. His left hand shot up to support it as he overlapped his hands, jaw clenching against the pain. He growled in exertion as the last bits of Miraak's soul poured into the Daedric artifact, and like that, the torrent stopped, and he was left with a glowing star filled with every scrap of power and knowledge Miraak had ever held.

As he stared into its crystalline facets, Ketar's fingers clenched around the vessel.

I've got you…you're mine now, not his. If all goes well, you'll thank me for this someday…you bastard.

With a last tightening of his grip, Ketar opened the rift and threw the Black Star inside for safekeeping, a long, relieved sigh leaving his body a moment after it closed.

"Well played, mortal."

Ketar's face fell as he was forced to return his attention to Mora.

"I can already see that you will surpass Miraak in every way. Learn from his example, my new champion. Serve me faithfully, and you will be richly rewarded."

Ketar's stormy eyes narrowed. "Let's get one thing straight, asshole. I am not, nor will I ever be your champion. You already used one Dragonborn for your own ends, and I will not allow myself the indignity of ever becoming that." He pointed at Miraak's corpse for emphasis, which was now moaning with the unlife brought about by Ketar's Shout.

"Miraak's choices were his own. He led himself down that path."

"And because of that, you think yourself blameless?" He snarled. "Do not try to bullshit me, Mora. You mean to tell me that the Daedric Prince of knowledge and fate couldn't see the outcome of giving Miraak that power? That you didn't see all the betrayal, the madness, the murder the moment he knelt at your feet?" His head shook slowly. "No, you knew. You knew and you didn't care, as long as it served your ends, and that makes you just as guilty for every drop of blood. It is over." Ketar marched toward the mass of eyes and tentacles with threatening steps, voice rising in intensity with every word. "I never want to see or hear from you again.

"You will not contact me, trying to peddle any more of your bullshit, and you will never—" he jabbed a finger at the moaning corpse, "—make another Miraak, because if you do…" He shifted his finger to point at Hermaeus Mora, snarling out his final declaration. "Mark my words, I will be coming for you—next." With a final glare at the Daedric Lord, he turned toward the Black Book and lifted his eyes to the sky. "Relonikiv!"

His Voice boomed across the landscape of Apocrypha, seconds passing before a green-winged dragon came into view and landed on a stone arch just above him.

"You called, thuri," said the dragon.

Ketar nodded slightly, stretching out his right hand to the book and activating its magic to form a portal. "Let's go home."

With a flash of green light, he and the dragon left Apocrypha and a blankly staring Hermaeus Mora behind. The Daedra stared at the space just occupied by Ketar for a good long time before humming quietly to himself and uttering a single phrase.

"What a curious mortal."

…

When the Temple of Miraak flared with light for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, Serana was just about ready to scream. But when she saw him stride out, one hand on the neck of a calm dragon, her heart sang with pure joy. Before she knew it, tears were sliding down her face, and she was charging up the stairs to meet him. After banishing most of Miraak's army, Solstheim's allied forces had gathered together to mop up the remains of the dominated mortals and dragons, and had managed to corral them into a relatively contained space. Then, just a few minutes before Ketar appeared, they all just stopped moving.

A few moments had passed before the telltale signs of post-compulsion appeared, and the controlled denizens of Miraak's army had fallen into a cacophony of reactions ranging from anger and self-frustration to regret and outright weeping. That last one hadn't been limited to the mortals. The most predominant reaction, overall, was confusion, and once they had been deemed safe enough to approach, the liberated dragons and mortals had welcomed any and all medical help they could get. Dolotlah and her healing Shout had made quite the difference in the aftermath, and as Serana embraced her returned husband, that continued to be the case.

After a while, they slowly pulled apart, eyes only for each other for that one moment. A small smile tugged at Ketar's lips as he stroked a blood-encrusted glove over her cheek.

"You were right," he exhaled, barely above a whisper.

Serana frowned a little in confusion. "About?"

He smiled wider. "Today. All of it. It happened just like you said."

She grinned and pressed her forehead against his. "This is the one time where I have absolutely no qualms about saying I told you so."

He chuckled, his breath ghosting over her lips. "This is the one time I don't mind hearing it."

Gently, tenderly, their lips met in a loving embrace as they held each other close, a heady sensation stealing over Serana until they broke apart. She sighed in tandem relief and satisfaction as she leaned her head against his chest.

"Come on," he said softly, "I have one last thing to do today."

…

Just a few minutes later, Ketar rallied every single dragon on the field, allied and controlled, and paced across their front line, the black-scaled form of Sahrotaar sitting in the very center.

"You…are free."

They blinked and stared at him blankly as he halted and faced them fully.

"You're free. Free to make your own decisions, to forge your own path in life. As you always should've been." Ketar took a deep breath, projecting his voice over the crowd as best he could. "I only ask that you leave your aggressive ways behind from here on out and treat any mortals you come across as friend, not foe or subject. Dragons were never meant to rule over man or Elvenkind, and it is because of this that they all rebelled against you. So long as you conduct yourselves honorably in the future, you will have no quarrel from me." He waved to the open sky. "You're free to go."

In a somewhat staggered manner, they all exchanged looks with each other and tentatively made to leave by spacing out to get room for takeoff.

"Not you," Ketar said sharply, his voice directed squarely at Sahrotaar.

Despite the specificity of his distinction, every dragon stopped in their tracks and watched the exchange.

Sahrotaar stared back at him and snorted derisively. "Why? Because I was Miraak's primary mount and lieutenant?"

"No," Ketar countered with a grim smile. "Because I know who and what you were even before he corrupted your will. I need to know that you won't go back to your old ways, because if you do and people die because I let you go, that blood is on my head." His arms crossed. "So convince me."

The dragon blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Convince me that you won't regress, that you won't return to being an overlord."

Sahrotaar glared at him resentfully for just a moment before his serpentine countenance sagged with immeasurable pain and regret. "Among the…many purposes Miraak had for dominating my mind…there was one that he emphasized above all others, at least in the beginning. He wanted me to experience the life of a servant, the way he and the other humans had. He wanted me to feel their pain, and learn the true curse of an overbearing taskmaster." His jaw tightened visibly. "That was the one lesson that, despite myself, managed to sink in over the countless ages I was forced to serve him. Because of Miraak, I tasted the full bitterness of oppression…" his face twitched in sadness, "and have lost my appetite for it."

Ketar's eyes darted over his face for a few seconds before his own features softened, and he let out a small sigh. "Good enough for me. You're free to go, zeymah. Use that pain to better yourself in the future. That is my final command." He looked to the others as well. "And that goes for all of you. I want you to lead your own lives and make better choices, because Akatosh created you all with a destiny far greater than this madness." His lips pursed tightly. "To that end, I would ask all of you for one last favor. This is entirely your decision, but if you would do me the honor…in two weeks' time, I would like to see all of you at the Throat of the World.

"There is a war coming in Skyrim, a foolish, pointless civil war being driven by a sadistic third party." His blue eyes hardened. "I aim to stop it, but as with Miraak, I cannot do so without your help. The dragon race was once meant to safeguard humanity and all of Nirn against the evils that threaten them, to be…revered and respected rather than hated and feared." He nodded slowly, voice resolute. "I would have that legacy restored. If you choose to go your own way, that's fine, I applaud it. But I would at least like to have your answer two weeks from now.

"I won't ask for your word. You've had enough required of you for a good, long time. Instead, I extend my trust to each and every one of you; a little faith that, in the end…you'll make the right decision." Ketar smiled warmly and waved to his dragon brothers and sisters. "Until then, go with the blessings of our father, and let your wings carry you to warmer shores."

With a final roar of goodbye, the dragons took to the skies and left the island of Solstheim to nurse their wounds and consider their futures. Ketar watched them go with his fingers laced with Serana's. All around them sat the smoldering remains of the Battle of Solstheim, a conflict that would one day be every bit as legendary as the duel between Miraak and Vahlok, whose noble spirit still watched over the island to that day.

But beyond that, Ketar saw the familiar faces of friends and allies, of a banged-up Brynjolf and Lydia and the snoozing young Blades who were inseparable even in slumber. Dolotlah and Odahviing, who was trying to learn her healing Shout in order to make himself of greater use to the Dragonborn. Valerica and Kodlak, who was pale and wounded, but alive. Nazir and Babette, cleaning their weapons and exchanging stories of glorious battle with the nearby Companions. Esbern and Delphine, the old Blades who had allied with those they had believed their greatest foes to bring about an even greater victory.

Zhanikan and Bard, the two stoic warriors from another shore, legends in their own right, their forms encircled by the body of a very affectionate blue dragon with four paws instead of just two. Tolfdir and the College, whose magic had, by all accounts, won the day. Knight-Paladin Gelebor, who was even paler than usual and half-unconscious, but smiling at the sky as he laid on his stretcher. Frea and her people, the Skaal, whose ancient, heroic predecessor had first defied Miraak's treachery.

Serana Volkihar Dov, his beautiful, incomparably strong wife; who had stood by him through thick, thin, and every agonizing point between. Who had told him that everything would be all right, and driven him to be a better person in every way since the day they'd met. Ketar looked around at his friends, the family he'd never had, yet found and built for himself all the same, and smiled with gentle warmth.

And then promptly collapsed into Serana's arms.

His startled wife hefted him up and tucked his head against her chest as she looked him over in concern. "Kay…Kay?"

His haggard, exhausted features looked up at her with pleading blue eyes. "Can we go home now?"

Her sunset-colored eyes blinked at him once before she began chuckling and lifted him off the ground while cradling his body to hers. "Yeah, love…let's go home."

---

AN: All right, so…some apologies are in order. This took way too long to complete, especially by my standards, but finals week happened, and I got completely screwed over by my school schedule. Soooo…you get a consecutive double-release of over 30K words. Contrary to what some might think, I was not waiting for Christmas. I just didn't have the time or strength to sit down and bang out the rest of this arc.

Now that that's settled, a few notes on these two chapters. This was an EXTREMELY difficult arc to write, mainly because I've never cast a battle from this many viewpoints before, and I really wanted to do each of the characters and their opponents justice. I hope I accomplished that. Man…so much happened, though most of it was just battle rigging, so I'm really not sure if I should comment on the content of this arc at all.

I will say that there will probably be two more chapters to this story, one to settle a few loose ends, and then the epilogue. Maybe I'll be able to do it all in one long chapter. I don't know. We'll see. Either way, I hope you enjoyed this climactic confrontation and are looking forward to the final chapters of the story.

Drake out.

Musical inspirations:

Dragon's Dogma - Fateful Decision: start-0:25—Ketar rises/Dragon Aspect/tidal waves, 0:25-2:10—Serana and Odahviing vs. Sahrotaar, 2:10-end—"Fus-Ro-Dah!"/Bard and Sonaanulspan/Serana flies off

300 – Fever Dream: Agmaer and Brelyna vs. Dukaan/Dolotlah's intervention/finishing Dukaan; To Victory: pacing in circles/Ketar vs. Miraak/portal

Dragon Age: Inquisition – Calling the Inquisition: start-0:50—palm to fist/Zhanikan destroys the Lurker/falling back, 0:50-1:10—the array/magicka flow/"Begin!", 1:10-end—the mantras of Auri-El/Knight-Paladin rises/"—begone!"

The Incredible Hulk – Are They Dead?: start-0:49—Ketar's exhaustion/Miraak's frustration/no regrets, 0:49-1:06—Ketar stabbed/Miraak's promise, 1:06-1:39—rage/knife fight/grappling, 1:39-1:50—knife-throw/face-off, 1:50-2:13—Dragon Aspect/doing the impossible/dance of death/midair exchange, 2:13-end—Whirlwind Sprint/final exchange/turn and stab

Dovahzul translations:

"Sonaanulspaan" – Bard's Eternal Shield, name of Bard's dragon mount

"mal Dovahkiin" – little Dragonborn