Light 1.2

I dipped back to the Earth and heard shouts of frustration. Loud, angry, panicked.

I was silent as I dropped, my flight lacking the whoomph and flutter that many old films had for the heroes back in the day. More than once I had made use of it as a means to silently approach or ambush an unwary foe who had let their guard down. This scenario wasn't too different, although the line of ally and foe hadn't exactly been drawn in the sand yet.

My hands toyed with my hair as I rubbed my arms, feeling goosebumps from the chill. I hadn't noticed when I had taken off, but even my hair had come undone when I had awoken. Like someone had taken their fucking time to put me in the worst headspace possible.

Intrusive thoughts abounded, almost tripping over themselves. Loud, angry, panicked.

Focus on the hair. Is she improving?

Hard to say. There weren't any bands or scrunchies to keep the hair in place, so my friend was limited to braiding and unbraiding it, like a child might practice with their mother. From what I could feel - both hair and forcefield wise - there was maybe a weaker degree of shakiness as it went back and forth over the motions.

Despite myself, a smile made it to my face. My mom had let me practice on her, once. After the resulting disaster, she had delegated Amy to the task of being the dress up doll.

The smile fell.

Maybe don't focus on the hair.

I felt like an absolute wreck. And I really wanted to wreck someone else's shit for that. Preferably those responsible, but beggars couldn't be choosers when it came to fucking up monstrous villains. Even a Titan would be nice, right about now.

At least then it'd be a cold comfort.

The voices grew loud enough that I could make out some words now, and I oriented myself to better aim my descent towards them.

"...heads for this! You should've made better preparations!"

"Better preparations? We had no idea the waif was a mage! She was bound and cuffed after a simple clubbing, never got the chance to display her magics."

"Only a fool would think Ulfric Stormcloak wouldn't have such a trick hidden up his sleeves! Fools, all of you."

There was the sound of feet hitting dirt, metal clanking. Movement.

"You find this funny, Ralof?"

It was a voice I recognized that spoke up this time, "I find many things about this situation amusing Imperial. The fact that Skyrim is in the hands of such incompetence is not one of them."

More movement, a deep thudding sound, an impact.

Quiet.

"...like your traitorous Jarl. Get back on your horse Sevitus, we'll finish the transport to the execution, and then patrol the woods. No levitation spell could have taken them far, even with the morn on the horizon."

Well, he was right in a sense. I hadn't gone far and morning was getting closer, peeking through the mist in thin beams of gold.

Keywords; Mage, spell, club. Whatever they account for as a 'Mage' it's relatively common. Same goes for 'spell'. Those who thought powers were magic made up a decent population. In a primitive world, it's more than possible to play the role and take advantage of the populace.

I felt tension beginning to recede, reciting old statistics and popular cape talk. It lined up with the hypothesis of me being in a different universe. Over two-hundred Earth's had been breached according to Dragon's files, more than a few were hundreds of years behind my Earth's tech level. If I were to commit to this theory, then approaching these guys would violating more up-and-coming laws and citations than we had fingers with our collective bodies. I wasn't sure how that held up with reality potentially ending, but it was something to consider, if only to keep my mind occupied.

But the guard claimed to have clubbed me. How does that line up?

I had been thinking on the way down, trying to organize my thoughts and memories as best I could with my new situation. Hazy in the end, but I knew for certain that I was near my gun and the weakened but recovering Stranger Titan...

But there are no cracks in this fake reality. No sense of detachment in my movement or thought cohesion.

Would a fully powered master effect from a Titan even have the similar tells of a normal cape? Sort of a dumb question. Arachne apparently ignored Manton Limits in summoning her wires, while Skadi never showed the capability of teleporting inside or around Capes or Titans. Oberon was a similar example. Powers, even at their height, refused to easily fall into prim and proper categories.

What about you, friend? Last chance I think.

She was also not someone easy to place. Sometimes it felt like her pushes were overt enough to be a guiding hand on my shoulder. Sometimes I felt like she wasn't there at all, beyond the way my power expressed itself.

I really fucking needed someone here for guidance.

My hair dropped from my hands, a strand falling over my shoulder. I could hear the clutter of sounds as the strange men began to ready for travel, and my mind brought me back to those times where I had watched teens gear up for treks across the ruined multiverse. When had I first taken command of a squad? The third big patrol? The second? Both cases where I felt like staying behind and letting them go as they were would only leave me feeling regrets.

No. No more regrets.

I finished my descent, piercing the diminished mist barrier, making myself visible to the contingent of guards and prisoners below me. I didn't touch ground, keeping myself at least one person high, and cleared my throat loudly.

The sole guard on horseback turned to me, fast enough that his horse whinnied in protest. Ahead of him, my fellow 'prisoners', one of whom I only just now noticed was wearing a very high-quality fur coat, with plated armor that made me long for my own costume. Where his eyes narrowed in suspicion, the 'thief' wide in fear, it was the man who's voice I recognized - Ralof - who tilted his head in surprise; sporting a fresh bruise along his mouth, I noticed.

"Uh, hi-"

An arrow bopped my forcefield, snapping in half at the force of metal head meeting transparent alien energy, and my defense... didn't pop. I waited a moment, but the field remained, all limbs and faces now front facing towards the new threat.

The carriage driver, but not from my wagon. I hadn't noticed in the heat of the moment, but mine wasn't the only one on this road, nor was it the only one filled with prisoners. Most of whom wore the same armor that the snarky Ralof did.

Puzzle pieces were coming together, but I was admittedly distracted by my forcefield. I had known that it had changed, felt those changes in the fight against Oberon. Almost certainly would have died if some aspects hadn't shifted somehow, but without any immediate real threat nearby... it was a strange thing to process how the tolerances have adapted.

"You've got a lot of nerve Mage," the archer growled out, already knocking another arrow, "Come to rescue your treacherous leader I see."

I raised my hands up, placating, only to see the other guards flinch back. The other carriage driver pulled out a sword, while the one on horseback did the same, circling around me to flank.

Right, okay. Fuck.

"Look, there's been some sort of misunderstanding here. I don't know who these people are or-"

The archer let loose another arrow. It bopped the forehead of one of my skulls, breaking harmlessly apart as it fell to the ground.

"-where I am." I finished lamely.

The thief stood up, "Exactly! Me and her, we're in the same boat! Nothing to do with these wretched Stormcloaks!"

"Sit back down you low-life scum or you'll get an arrow to the back instead of the executioners blade! The former is far more painful."

The thief quietly sat back down.

"Powerful magic," the horseback rider commented, "Can't even see the Ward."

I glanced behind myself, keeping most of my attention on the archer, wary that the next arrow might actually pop my field. The rider was young, baby faced almost, but his body was well-defined, fitting into the leather armor well enough. It looked Roman, if the bits of history channel Ashley had made me watch were to be true.

The sword in hand, the intensity of his eyes, and the sweat on his brow betrayed his nervousness.

Sevitus?

"It's not..." I paused, thinking on how to continue. "Not a kind of magic that you're thinking of. Or that I am, I guess?"

The archer growled, "Ulfric is borrowing muscle from foreign lands now eh? Just when I think you can't sink any lower."

"Tough words, coming from the Thalmor's lap dogs," Ralof spoke up. "Although I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at the Empire's hypocrisy. Not anymore."

"You'll die for those words traitor."

"No, Invictus. I'll die for my honor."

Okay, this is getting a bit out of hand.

"Look." I cut in before they could continue, "I'm just trying to ask some questions, because a lot of things aren't adding up about this situation and-"

Another arrow was let loose. An invisible hand caught the wooden projectile, the arrowhead inches from striking the field once more. A gentle squeeze snapped it like a twig.

"-And if you fire another arrow at me, I'm not going to be civil anymore."

I flared my aura, not nearly at full strength, but enough that the waves would reach the archer/leader. The horse-rider's hand began to shake, earning another concerned whinny from his poor stead as he widened his circle. The prisoners and Ralof took a share of the blast, unfortunately, and I could see how each of them shivered or shuffled nervously. The gagged man in armor seemed to be handling it the best, controlling his breathing.

The leader was at the edge of the effect, but coupled with my words he at least paused mid-grab for another arrow. Where the man I pegged as Sevitus was young, Invictus - if I presumed correctly - was... not old but harder. Long face, dark shadows under his eyes, and faint scar above his right brow.

Slowly, he lowered his hand and I lowered my aura.

"Okay. Good. Let me restate: I have no idea who any of you are and no idea where I am. Last thing I remember was... fighting in a city and then I woke up here, in some sort of mountain range? These aren't my clothes either."

Silence. The guards kept their eyes locked onto me, confused or not. Ralof continued to study me with an expression I couldn't place, while the gagged man appeared simply... curious.

"Alright, how about you just tell me how you found me then? What I was doing, wearing, anything? One of you mentioned clubbing me right?"

In the corner of my eye, Sevitus flinched. I zeroed in on him.

"Please. Lives are at stake right now. I need to know."

Nothing. Sevitus refused to look me in the eye, glancing between me and his leader, who simply scowled. I ramped up the aura slight, he and his horse both reacted like a hot poker had nudged them... but still they refused.

Fuck this-

"You were crossing the border," Ralof spoke, "Our group was seeking a passage through the mountains beyond Imperial patrols, but someone tipped them off. Ambushed us as we began to set up camp. You and the thief here-"

"Lokir," mumbled the thief.

"-Lokir, were hiding among the stables and found once the fighting broke out. I didn't see what happened to you exactly, but they dragged you to these wagons unconscious."

I flew closer, ignoring how the guards and prisoners shrunk back a bit, "And I was wearing this? These clothes in particular? They didn't..."

The leader, Invictus, growled, "Don't be ridiculous! To undress a young woman while she's unconscious, criminal or not, would be the height of dishonor. We caught you and the thief attempting to make off with the horses, and Sevitus dolled out what was needed to bring you to justice."

Ralof barked out a laugh, "To hear an Imperial cry about honor while a Jarl remains gagged and my face numb is a tale that not even the cheapest of bards would tell."

"We are honorable, not stupid. Ulfric has already used the power of the Voice to get his way. As for you... well, think of it as a taste of justice for all the good men who have died by your hand."

I clapped my hands, grabbing everyone's attention, "Sorry to interrupt, but let's not get sidetracked here. You said I was trying to steal horses? To ride with?"

"Obviously," replied Invictus.

Lokir looked up, "A crime that isn't worthy of an execution!"

A glare from Invictus had him shrink in on himself.

"Invictus," I said, "Don't you see the problem with this idea? Why would I need a horse?"

Invictus rolled his eyes, "Many reasons. We aren't fools Mage. We know that Magic has it's limits like anything else in this world, and prolonged use of a spell would leave you defenseless when you inevitably succumb to exhaustion."

Interesting. Something to file away for later, even if it didn't help me in the moment.

"Do I look like I'm exhausted? I've been flying non-stop for awhile now."

"Mhm. Could have drank a potion before the hit. Out of Sevitus's sight, burning through magic to bluff us. Or you could be one of the mad ones who eats wild plants in search of restorative abilities."

"A potion," I raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Of course, the simplest explanation is that Ulfric hired you from another land. A Nord mage who travels the continent isn't unheard of, especially one who works for the right amount of Septims. You couldn't leave him behind, so you stuck to horse-traveler or on foot if you needed to steal one."

"All of this," he gestured at the stopped carriages and prisoners, "Is to stay an execution, until you at least get paid."

I spent a moment thinking through what he was proposing. A lot of things weren't tracking, with how he described powers as requiring 'potions' and 'spells'. The closest I could think of was the vials of Shin, closely guarded by their government, and a few Capes who fell hard for the Magic angle.

Myrddin had been the most famous, often spouting magic related puns or giving words of wisdom as a Wizard, but it hadn't gotten in the way of his career as a Hero. To my best recollection, despite the criticism some fans threw at him, he didn't go as far as brewing actual potions or using cauldrons.

Speaking of... could this be one of their test bed worlds? Playing up the fantasy aspect while breeding powers?

Chilling. Horrific.

A gong echoed through the air, catching everyone by surprise. I felt the tremors of the air through my field, faint as they were. Like the air was shaking.

The gagged man, Jarl, seemed to perk up.

"Did you hear that?" Lokir murmured.

"Thunder?"

"It's not the season nor time of day for thunder," Invictus met my eyes, "Is it Mage?"

It took me a moment to parse what he was thinking, "You think I did that? I haven't moved an inch."

"You were gone quite some time in your escape attempt. Could have performed any number of rituals."

"If I wanted to escape Invictus, I would literally be gone right now." I pointed at myself, "And according to you, I'm apparently burning 'magic' as we speak."

"Enough coin from an ex-Jarl could make anyone loyal, Mage."

Fuck off.

"I don't have any money, I don't know who Jarl is, and my name isn't Mage. You can call me-"

Another echo, louder, deeper. The woods reverberated with it's presence and I felt it reverberate within my bones.

Jarl was trying to get Ralof's attention.

"There it is again!" Lokir cried out, "By the Divines what is that?!"

"A clever trick by a Mage with money on the line, clearly."

Frustrated, I pointed at Jarl, "If anyone know anything about this, it's the guy who's gagged and trying to talk to... Ray-loff right?"

At the mention of his name, he met my eyes, "Ralof of Riverwood, yes. Ulfric seems to be trying to warn me. Warn us."

Oh. That's who Ulfric is. Huh.

Invictus smirked, "And there it is men. A ploy to get us ungag the former Jarl for answers, headed by a Mage in his employ and one of his right-hand men. Clever, for the short time it took, but the game is over."

He turned his back on me, shouting, "All of you are going to be executed under the supervision of General Tulius! Skyrim will be at peace once more, and you will be footnote in the history of the Empir-"

The ground shook. Slightly, but it shook none the less, causing the proud man to stumble.

An echo - a voice - broke through the air. Through the woods. Through my forcefield. Through my bones.

It broke through me.

Everyone stumbled as the sky erupted into a deep and volcanic red, the clouds morphing and twisting to a will that I couldn't understand but felt spellbound to observe. The morning turned from a dreary gray to a vengeful crimson.

And then the sky began to fall.