Hey y'all. I guess I have a pattern of uploading a chapter around every two years...yikes. I'm finally a little more settled thankfully and with all this coronavirus stuff going on I really am starting to run out of reasons not to sit down and write. I honestly forgot about this story for a while but saw all the work that I put into understanding the Falmer language and decided to hop back into it. This chapter will be purely from Dragonborn perspective, and it may be like that for a while. Sorry to keep people waiting, I really appreciate your support, and I hope to see you again soon. Enjoy the read

Ch 1

Many years later….

A woman pulled a fur cloak tightly around her, glancing at a flickering torch letting off a faint glimmer. Wind whispered through halls and rattled windows, betraying the fact a massive storm was raging outside. The woman tried to remember a time she didn't feel cold. She could not. Winter had taken Skyrim like a terrible sickness that would not cure. Snow had fallen for what must have been 14 months in nearly every corner of the country. It was unnatural, and many considered it a curse. Shrines were erected at a rate like never before, in the hopes it might appease some angry god. Many had perished from famine, cold, or property damage. Violence due to food shortages had started to break out. This was a problem that needed to be solved, and quickly. A problem that had befuddled even the Dragonborn.

She had journeyed for some time to arrive in Winterhold. All her research had led her to this city. The only plausible cause for this peculiar weather could be magic, and lots of it. As much as she hated the idea of believing in stereotypes, the College of Winterhold had their reputation for a reason. They had a habit of sticking their nose in places it didn't belong. She would put money on them having something to do with all of this. Gaining access to the College itself may have proven more difficult if she hadn't used her all-powerful Thu'um as though it were a neat parlor trick. It was enough to convince the mage guarding the front gate to let her in. There was a very small Breton woman who led her to where she could find the Arch-Mage once she found out just who had wandered into their college.

Now the Dragonborn stood outside the Arch-Mage's office, cold air blowing softly around her, almost as if it were laughing at her feeble attempts to keep warm. She cursed the weather for the 924th time before knocking loudly on the door once again. She had not travelled this far without rest just to be kept waiting. The Dragonborn considered using Unrelenting Force to remove the obstacle completely before she heard the latch lift and the door slowly creak open.

"Enter." A voice spoke softly from deeper in the room, the door having been opened by magic.

The Dragonborn couldn't help but roll her eyes at the extravagance of wizards as she entered the room. Books lined the walls. It was dimly lit by mage-lights in the center of a room, illuminating a garden with a small white tree. The Arch-Mage sat at a desk off to the side, looking at some scrolls, jotting something down in them every so often. He wore a brown leather cloak, that looked more Nordic in design than any of the other robes she had seen wandering through the stoned college, which was surprising considering his race. He was a Dunmer; dark skin and pointed ears immediately gave this fact away. Not to mention the deep red eyes. He had a graying goatee and thick eyebrows. He seemed old, for an elf.

"Tell me," he finally spoke up in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, "why have you come, Dragonborn? Do you finally seek the knowledge of the College of Winterhold? Or have you come as a representative of those barbarians that hold us responsible for every bad thing that happens in this Skyrim?"

'I'll show you a barbarian,' the warrior thought to herself, her grip tightening around her longsword. It had been a long day.

She decided to brush off the obvious call-out, and went down the civil rout.

"Allow me to introduce myself properly, Arch-Mage. My name is Freyja al-Azif. Of course, you already know me as the Dragonborn. I'm afraid no one has told me your name." Freyja was never much of a diplomat, but she had to tread carefully here. This mer had something to offer her, and she had to go about getting it through talk, not force. The College preferred to keep their secrets to themselves.

"I am Savos Aren." He spoke in the same guarded tone. "You'll forgive my hostility, Freyja, but your presence in Skyrim has been known for almost a decade, and yet not once have you visited The College. That leaves me to presume that you have no interest in magic, and are here for answers to this little weather problem we've been having. Answers you presume we have."

"Savos, people are dying. I didn't come here to point fingers. I simply want to find a solution. I've read every book I can get my hands upon. I have sought out the Jarls, the Greybeards, the Blades, even Paarthurnax. All have given me blank stares and empty words. Our people suffer, and The College may at least be able to point me in the right direction."

Savos seemed to glare at the parchment before him, but it could have just been that his face was naturally set in a sour expression. "The College of Winterhold holds no obligation to the people of Skyrim. They damn us for not helping, and they blame us when we do. All we have ever offered anyone is knowledge, and the chance to find their own answer to life's many questions."

"Then offer me the knowledge to fix this mess!" Freyja bursted out. She quickly took a deep breath and regained her composure, but Savos had obviously noticed her emotional reaction. She spoke again through clenched teeth. "I simply want to help the people of Skyrim. It's kind of my thing. All my research has led me to believe that only you hold the key to fixing all of this."

Savos scoffed at the scrolls sprawled out on the desk before him. "What on Nirn led you to believe that?"

Freyja grabbed his chair by the wooden arm and turned it forcefully, facing the Arch-Mage towards herself. "Wake up, Savos! This is magic! You know it, I know it. Half of Skyrim knows." Her face was inches from his. Through the sour expression, she could see a hint of fear in his eyes. Finally, a reaction. To hell with diplomacy. She turned away from him, pacing slowly towards the garden. "There are whispers in the wind. Glowing lights flash in the clouds. A feeling of dread has sat in my stomach for the past year, dread that something is coming. And that it is coming soon."

"Of course I know that," Savos spat. "Any fool with half a brain would! Do you think that means I have an answer? That any of us do? We're just as scared as everyone else."

Freyja turned, a fierce look to her. "We don't have time to be scared anymore. I'm tired of waiting for this to pass. Warmth will come to this land again, whether it would like to or not. The only question is, Arch-Mage, will you help me with this burden? Or stand in my way?"

Savos stood up angrily and suddenly, his hands raised in a casting position. Freyja did not draw her sword, but stood waiting, watching. They stood like that for a moment. The Dunmer gazed in disbelief at the woman standing before him. She came to his College, and had the audacity to hold him responsible for something he had little control over. He sighed. He wasn't looking for a fight with the Dragonborn. It was one that he would not win. The Arch-Mage sat back in his chair and sighed. A look of defeat seemed to wash over him, as he closed his eyes and held his forehead. He looked tired. "My mages suspected that magic was the cause since the beginning. Before you say anything, of course I had it looked into. We found the source somewhere west of Saarthal, underground. I sent ten mages to investigate, and report back. Ten. None of them have since returned. That was six months ago."

The old elf suddenly felt a hand on his forearm, causing him to open his eyes. Freyja was knelt next to him. Gone was the warrior, now a certain kindness and warmth filled her eyes. She spoke gently.

"Tell me where I need to go."

(Line Break)

The wind howled as Freyja pushed her way through the storm, her guides from The College barely visible in front of her. She put her hand in front of her eyes to shield it from the wind, wondering if they actually knew where they were going. She mused that they probably were just doing whatever they could to get her as far away from Winterhold as possible. No, they seemed genuine in their wish to guide her to the old ruins at the Arch-Mage's request. He was fairly cooperative after their little tussle. Freyja figured he would be. He was just scared, they all were. She was going to solve this thing and be done with it. She figured she'd take a break from adventure after all this blows know she'd earned it. Maybe settle down at that property the Jarl of Falkreath had offered her, raise some animals. None of that was going to happen in this weather.

The guides suddenly stopped.

"Here! This is it!" the Wood Elf guide shouted.

Freyja moved up next to them.

"Lok Va Koor!" she shouted her Thu'um into the skies. For a moment, the wind stopped howling, the snow stopped falling, and the skies cleared ever so slightly. The two men from the college looked at her in awe, but the Dragonborn was too busy looking down into the ravine to acknowledge them. Small white pillars stuck out of the icy cliffs below her, an old architecture, one long forgotten.

"These are Snow Elf ruins?" she spoke quietly now that the wind had died down, turning to the Wood Elf.

"Yes. We uncovered them shortly after we started digging in Saarthal. Never did much with them. Arch-Mage deemed it too dangerous." The Bosmer looked down the steep cliffs of ice, keeping a good distance between him and the edge.

Freyja's eyebrows furrowed as wind slowly began to blow in from all directions, heavy snow once beginning to come down as her Thu'um wore off.

"How do I reach the source?" Freyja once again had to shout over the wind, causing the guides to flinch, worrying her voice would push them off the cliffside.

"We're not entirely certain, but your best shot at getting in is right there." The elf pointed at a now barely visible crevice intermingled with all the old structures jutting out from the ice.

Freyja nodded slowly, pulling her hood up once more to shield her from the winds that now roared in her ears. It would be a dangerous climb even without the wind tossing her about. She could do it, but she wasn't so sure that her friends from the College would make it there.

"You two go back and find a nice fire to sit by. I can take things from here," she yelled into the winds.

The two mages looked at each other before the Bosmer spoke once again. "You're sure? Savos told us to make sure you get there in one piece."

"And you have," Freyja retorted. "It'd be pointless for you to make such a dangerous climb only to do it once again right after I've gone inside. Go. I'll be fine."

It was more than enough to convince them. Freyja watched them disappear into the snow storm before trudging her way to the other side of the ravine. She shouted the Clear Skies Thu'um once more to make sure she was right above the ruins before pulling out two Nordic Picks and some rope. She tied spikes to her boots, and nailed the rope as best she could to the ledge, before she slowly descended. The wind shook her about the whole way down. She would shout, but she was afraid that any sort of sudden movements would remove the ice that was keeping her from the next world. A rogue wind came from her right and pushed her violently, and she lost her footing. She fell for a moment before gripping onto the rope as tightly as she could. The force of her falling down was now pushing her towards the cliff rapidly. Freyja took a leap of faith and let go of the roping, falling right through the crevice in the cliffside.

Freyja hit the ground but she did not stop moving. She was sliding down, faster and faster. She pressed her hands and feet on the walls of ice surrounding her in an attempt to slow down, but there was no stopping now. Suddenly she fell once again, far enough to knock the wind out of her when she landed. Freyja groaned loudly, laying on the ground for a moment. She slowly lifted herself up, wincing and rubbing her leather-covered back. She gasped in surprise when she realized where she was.

It had to have been some sort of ancient Falmer temple. Beneath her feet lay a giant golden sun, now fractured and covered in ice. It was surrounded by white marble that matched the columns that jutted out from the ravine. There were markings that looked to be some sort of language engraved in the floor. She slowly paced around the cavern she had fallen into. Ice covered her head, but she wondered what might have been there instead, thousands of years ago. Some silver object shown through the ice above her, but she couldn't make out what it was supposed to be. It was a massive room. She shivered and clutched her shoulders. She needed to find the source of this magic and be done with it. She wasn't here to sight-see.

Upon further investigation she found a hallway leading out. It should've been a reassuring thing for Freyja to see, but all she felt when she saw it was an uneasiness. It had been carved out of the ice, and relatively recently. She drew her sword. More magic? Perhaps the twisted and blind descendents of the Falmer that so often ruined her cavern explorations. She hoped not. Freyja moved cautiously towards the opening, when she suddenly heard a very faint noise coming from it. She froze and listened.

There was a rhythm to it, that was all she could tell. Perhaps conversation? Some sort of chanting? If Freyja had to deal with another insane cult she would not be happy. She decided to press forward.

She moved slowly down the hallway of ice, absent of any ruins. A dim light blue was all she saw as the noise became louder. It was chanting, now she was sure of it. But in a language she had never heard anything like. As she moved down the hallway she saw the exit, and a yellow light seemed to be shining on the other side.

'I knew it was magic,' Freyja thought to herself. She supposed most of Skyrim knew. Still, it felt good to be right. She quickened her pace down the hallway, moving as silently as she could.

The first thing she saw when she exited the tunnel of ice was a hut made of chaurus.

'Falmer,' Freyja cursed under her breath, 'Why am I surprised?'

But the multiple huts she now saw appeared empty. There were no chaurus or Falmer wandering around. Just chanting. She then realized she was in an even larger cavern filled with what looked like a Falmer village, no, a city. Freyja nearly wet herself. She was the Dragonborn and a seasoned warrior, but she was no match for this many blind beasts.

Freyja looked to find the source of the bright yellow light and the chanting. They emanated from the same location, seemingly, around a bend a ways down the cavern. She walked softly through the many huts, chests, and pens, moving quickly from cover to cover. There were different Falmer-sized holes all along the walls of the cavern. How could this many Falmer survive in one place without drawing any attention from surface-dwellers? Freyja came to the conclusion they must have all arrived here only recently, or be actively avoiding their usual raids on the above world.

She eventually reached the bend. When she poked her head out from behind it, she was greeted with the most intense light she had ever seen. When her eyes adjusted she saw something that she could not believe.

What looked like thousands of Falmer were all bent at their knees facing the same direction. In front of them was an orb of light, surrounding a figure that seemed to be made of pure light. It was the one that was chanting. From where Freyja was standing, the voice sounded vaguely female. It sounded strangled, almost, as if the words she were speaking were incredibly painful to say. But now she could make out some words.

"...as gandre Aurie-El, nu calne oia bisia. Arani Morae nagaiala!"

Whatever she said the Falmer must've enjoyed because she heard chitters and clicks that almost sounded like cheering. Could this woman be the cause of all their troubles? The light surrounding the woman began to fade, and Freyja started to make out her features. She had long white hair that fell to her waist. She wore a crown of some kind, it looked silver, with some sort of pale stones embedded in it. She might have been beautiful once. Her skin was white as the snow, eyes an icey blue. It looked decayed, however, and hardened in jce. As if her body had been frozen over for many years. Freyja was looking at a Snow Elf. Impossible. They were wiped out by the Nords and turned to slaves by the dwemer. These sad twisted creatures bending their knees should've been all that was left of them.

Her thoughts were broken when she heard the voice of the women return. It was no longer loud or strangled, but very quiet and soft. Too quiet for Freyja to make out the words. It took her a moment to realize the White Woman was staring her icy blue eyes right into Freyja's. She gasped and stumbled backwards. The Snow Elf spoke a final word and all the Falmer in the rooms turned to face Freyja, snarling as they drew their swords and bows and arrows.

"Fus Ro Dah!" Freyja projecting her Thu'um directly in the center of the massive collection of Falmer, sending an entire column of them flying into the air. It distracted them long enough for Freyja to turn and sprint in the opposite direction. But there were Falmer waiting for her at the tunnel she came in from. She would not last in a fight, she needed to move. She desperately looked around for a way out. The little Falmer tunnels shooting out every which way seemed to be her best bet. She picked one, and dove inside, as arrows whizzed by her.

Once again she was sliding. Freyja decided she was quite finished with ice caverns. She was face first, winding through the tunnel, letting the momentum carry her further and further from the Falmer.

'I might just make it out of this,' she thought to herself.

Suddenly there was no more ice beneath her, only open air. The tunnel lead right back out into the ravine, a few hundred feet above the ground. Her eyes widened and quickly shouted, "Wuld Nah Kest!" Whirlwind Sprint launched her forward at a tremendous speed. Still, better than falling. Instead of smacking into the icy cliffside she smashed right through it. She landed on the icy floor and smacked her head. Freyja groaned once again. She was tired of falling. She got up quickly, clutching her head, looking to see if any of the Falmer had followed her out. She appeared to be quite alone. It was quiet once again. She still had her ice picks, she could certainly climb her way out of here. She had to get back to Winterhold, and assemble an army. This had to be what was causing the storm, she knew it in her heart.

She sighed, looking at the cavern she had smashed into. There was a small waterfall in front of her. The ice must've froze around it. There was no obvious way out, other than the hole she had created in the first place, and that led to a sheer drop to a shallow river. All she had were her picks, without rope she wasn't sure she wanted to risk climbing the ice. She began feeling the ice walls around her, lightly tapping them with her pick as she looked for any weaknesses. She finally struck an area that let out a hollow reverberation through the ice.

"Ha!" Freyja exclaimed happily. She raised her pick for a heavier strike, when suddenly she stopped. There was something in the ice, almost directly in front of her. Was it….a face? She took a close look into the ice. All she could see was a face, and even that was blurry, but there was no mistaking it now. A perfectly preserved Snow Elf, frozen for who knew how long, faced Freyja with eyes closed through the ice. This, the pillars, the room, the golden sun on the floor. 'All this is buried so close to The College, undiscovered until now.' She thought to herself. 'They'd have a field day here. Who knows how many secrets would be uncovered.' The distant growl of a Falmer brought her back to reality.

"Sorry friend, I hate to disturb the dead but I'm afraid I need to get out of here and this is my best bet. I'm sure you'd understand." With that Freyja lifted her pick and swung it deeply into the ice. Suddenly, a beam of light burst from it. It only grazed her hand for a fraction of a second, but it gave her a feeling of warmth she had not felt in a very long time. She pulled her hand back and gasped. She quickly waved her hand through the beam again, but the warmth was gone. She glanced back up at the face beneath the ice. As far as she could tell it was unchanged, as was the beam- wait, no. It was expanding. She felt the warmth once again, but this time all over her body as cracks began to form on the ice in front of her, beams of light poking through them.

There was a blast of light and hot air. Freyja was thrown off her feet, the wind knocked out of her once again as she slammed into the other side of the cavern. 'Why me?' The Nord thought to herself as she caught her breath and lifted her gaze back to the wall of ice. Well, what used to be the wall of ice might be more accurate. Now all that was there was a hole leading to the surface. In its center was the Snow Elf, now lying peacefully on its back. Freyja got to her feet and moved quickly towards the body. It was a male. She had an easy time discerning, considering what little clothing he was wearing had been torn to shreds, they looked almost burned off. He had platinum blonde hair, it looked almost silver. His skin was white as snow, but little bits of pink skin were placed symmetrically on different parts of his body, nose and cheeks. He was relatively fit, Freyja discerned he must have been some sort of fighter. But who could he have been to have all that power housed around him? His eyes were pale blue, the palist she had ever- wait, eyes?!

Freyja gasped as she realized this dead Mer wasn't quite dead. He was looking at her, his eyelids half covering his eyes. He looked quite confused. Understandable, given the circumstances, Freyja thought

"Erm….Hey, there." Freyja tried to speak as casually as she could.

"Atmori…?" The snow elf spoke softly before promptly falling into unconsciousness once more.