Ivarstead Stables

24th of Last Seed

"Come here, Sal-Gheel. I want to show you something."

Lydia withdrew a long cloth bundle wrapped in thick rope from Alfarinn's carriage. Sal-Gheel, who had been standing on the banks of the river that separated Ivarstead from the Seven Thousand Steps, came abreast of her.

"What is it, Lydia?"

"Open it up and take a look," Lydia encouraged, her smile warm and her eyes twinkling knowingly.

Sal delicately untied the knots of rope and unwrapped the cloth. What he saw inside made him gasp and widen his eyes in surprise.

Lying flat on its side within the cloth was an Akaviri katana. Its thick metal hilt was wrapped in strips of black leather and its brass guard had the shape of a stylized coiled serpent. Dazzling magical sparks in every visible shade of blue streaked around the long steel blade from the fuller to the tip and back down again in a ceaseless course, leaving trails of brilliant light in their wake. Sal recognized the weapon in an instant.

"Dragonbane!"

"Yep!" Lydia nodded, confirming. "The very same Dragonbane you remember. I brought it from Breezehome. I intended to give it to you at some point, but in all of yesterday's action, it slipped my mind."

"You've kept it all this time?" Sal looked up at Lydia, amazed.

Lydia nodded again, more solemnly this time, almost nostalgic. "Yes, I have. I've tried to take it out of its sheath to polish and sharpen it now and then. But for some reason, it never rusts, dirties, or dulls over time as a natural iron or steel sword does. Must be some kind of Akaviri magic, I guess."

She shrugged and laughed in embarrassment, rubbing the back of her head bashfully. "The truth is, Sal," she put a soft hand on Sal's shoulder and stared deeply into his eyes. "I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it. I never took it back to Sky Haven Temple and returned it to its proper place."

She moved her hand from Sal's shoulder up to his cheek. "It reminded me too much of you."

Sal blinked and stared back into Lydia's round brown eyes. "Dragonbane reminded you of me?" He reached up and gently touched her hand on his cheek.

"I know that all you've ever wanted in life is a simple, normal, and comfortable life," Lydia explained, taking Sal's other hand in hers. She began stroking her thumb across Sal's cheek. "Shahvee and the other Argonians are your family, and the Assemblage is your home, too. For me, Whiterun always has been and always will be my true home. At the same time, though, I never wanted to forget our amazing and daring adventures, as much as they had their ups and downs. That's why I've held onto Dragonbane all this time. I want you to know, Sal, that the last year we spent together was the best year of my life."

Sal sighed and turned his head to tenderly kiss Lydia's palm. "Lydia…Thank you." When she removed her hands from him, he turned back to Dragonbane. He slipped his hands under the hilt and blade and carefully picked it up, balancing it in his palms.

He chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "It feels good to have this back after so long. Sometimes I still can't believe that I slew Alduin using this oversized letter opener."

"Come on, Sal," Lydia turned on her heels and patted Sal on the back. She removed her Steel Shield from her back and slipped her left arm through it. "Let's spar. You and me, just like the old times."

Sal grinned, showing his fangs in the mid-morning sunlight, and walked off with his shield, following Lydia towards Shroud Hearth Barrow, Alfarinn in tow.

"Fair fight, one-on-one, five-point limit, nothing flashy or fancy," Lydia advised, drawing her favorite Steel Sword and fearlessly brandishing it. She and Sal stood opposite each other near the stone stairs leading up to the entrance of Shroud Hearth Barrow.

"Nothing like a little healthy competition to strengthen the relationships in your life, am I right?" Sal chuckled and gripped Dragonbane, lifting his Blades Shield in front of his body defensively. "I can't promise I'll go easy on you, though."

"As long as you don't Shout at me, Sal, anything goes," Lydia smirked and raised her sword high over her head and her shield in front of her body, prepared to charge.

"A year makes a real difference. Can't afford to let our fighting skills get rusty, now can we?" Sal laughed and twirled Dragonbane between his fingers. He took a more standard defensive pose, holding the katana off to the left and his shield guarding the right side of his body. He bent his knees and dug his feet into the cobblestone. "May the best warrior win!"

"Go!" Alfarinn clapped his hands loudly in the air from a yard away.

"Ysgramor!" Lydia sprinted forward, drawing her sword backward in a wide arcing slash. "For Skyrim!"

Sal instinctively lifted his shield to block the incoming blow. The Steel Sword collided hard with the center of the shield and sent strong ripples through his arm. He quickly shrugged off the pain and pushed the opposing sword aside. Swinging Dragonbane, he lunged straight into Lydia's gut. She parried it by the flat of her shield and flipped her sword into a reverse grip, which she swung round at Sal's neck.

Sal leaped out of the way just in time, sending the iron blade curving through empty air. He tightened his grip slightly on the katana, feeling as though its magical Akaviri energy coursed through his Argonian blood.

"Scale and claw!" Sal bellowed fiercely a classic battle cry of Black Marsh at the top of his lungs. He charged headlong at Lydia and swung to strike her left shoulder. "For Argonia!"

Dragonbane tapped the surface of the Iron Armor, causing Lydia to recoil and flinch. She stumbled, but speedily regained her balance.

"Argh!" Lydia stamped her foot in frustration. "One point for you, Sal! But I won't let you get the best of me!"

Smirking, she retaliated by sneaking her blade underneath Sal's shield and flicking it upwards. Sal exclaimed when his shield slipped off of his arm and went flying through the air, landing in the grass a few feet away. The fighters stopped their sparring while Alfarinn safely retrieved it.

Sal turned to tilt his head disapprovingly at Lydia, who pretended to shrug innocently.

"Had enough yet, hero?"

"Oh, I'm just getting warmed up!"

He held Dragonbane in both hands and brought it downwards on Lydia's head. She threw up a horizontal high guard to counter it. Sal slid his katana down the length of Lydia's longsword and slashed diagonally downwards; Lydia blocked him a second time.

Sal slashed and cut at every reachable angle with Lydia parrying him at every turn, the Argonian driving the Nord into retreat. The sound of their clashing blades echoed through every corner of the village, their metallic ringing echoing from the Barrow to the Seven Thousand Steps. Alfarinn sat on a boulder smoking his pipe, riveted. He leaned Sal's shield upright on the side of his seat.

Sal pushed Lydia's blade towards the ground and tried to tap her elbow with the flat edge of Dragonbane. Lydia parried in a split second and retaliated by swinging back up in a small arc, the point of her Steel Sword harmlessly slapping the side of the Argonian's neck.

"Haha! One point for Lydia, Housecarl of Whiterun!"

She swung inward again to the other side of Sal's neck; the Argonian blocked it by hoisting his katana vertically and blocking with the flat of the blade.

Suddenly, Lydia elbowed Sal in the stomach and knocked him flat onto his back on the grass. She cleaved her sword straight down. The edge of the blade tapped the topmost layer of Sal's Blades Cuirass below the left shoulder. Lydia laughed out loud, pumping her sword in the air victoriously.

"Two points! Come on, Sal, step up your game!"

She cleaved at Sal a second time, but he rolled hastily out of the way. The Steel Sword sliced the grass in two, sending leaves and soil flying everywhere.

"Awfully bold for a Nord!" Sal joked, climbing to his feet. "Take this!"

Sal pushed Lydia in the side and knocked her to the ground. She hit the stone road on her side, her armor taking most of the impact of the fall. Sal slipped his toes underneath her sword and pushed it up into his other hand. When Lydia stood back up, he promptly returned it to her.

Both combatants hoisted their weapons and slammed them onto each other.

The swords locked tight in a crooked X-shape. Their wielders pushed up and down onto each other, their feet digging into the grass and stone. Lydia stared at Sal through the cage of crossed blades. Dragonbane's blue sparks bounced and leaped in every direction. She had already started to sweat.

"Come on, Sal-Gheel! You're not even trying! Where's that Stormcloak and Draugr-killing madbeast that I knew from the Civil War? Where's the courageous Dragonslayer who handed Alduin's tail to him in Sovngarde? Don't tell me that Shahvee and the others have made you as soft as Windhelm's snow!"

"Watch your mouth, young lady! I suppose all that time living easy in Breezehome has made you lethargic, gorging yourself on ox meat and alto wine? I'm not about to let some taunting cocky upstart from mead-aholic honey-glutton Whiterun show me up!"

He flipped Dragonbane vertical and threw his full weight onto Lydia, who yelped and staggered backward, slipping and landing on her armored rear end on the ground. She sat there painfully rubbing her rump, and scarcely had a second to think before Dragonbane touched her kneecaps.

"Yeah! That's how it's done!" Sal leaped around triumphantly, laughing and hitting Dragonbane on his arm. "Scratch four points for the Argonian!"

"You're going to wish you hadn't said that, Argonian!" Lydia confidently teased, swiftly jumping up. Sheathing her sword, she hurled herself at Sal. One foot slipped behind the Argonian's legs and tripped him upwards onto his back yet again. Sal slammed hard onto the stone road, and Dragonbane slipped from his hand and rolled away out of reach.

The next thing Sal knew, Lydia had redrawn her sword and leaped high off a boulder, swooping down on him with her blade aimed directly at his chest.

Time seemed to slow down around them both. Sal's eyes widened in fright, his face draining of color.

Alduin's fanged maw now stretched wide open, his pitch-black fangs bared, longer and sharper than any sword in Nirn. The Dragon's acrid, fetid breath washed over the Argonian, choking, strangling, constricting him, as the jaws came closer and closer. It scorched his nostrils and made his eyes water. Every nerve in Sal's body suddenly froze in terror, his limbs rigid and his heart pounding in his chest.

A trio of Words of Power suddenly flashed in his mind's eye.

"Feim Zii Gron!"

A cloud of brilliant blinding blue energy exploded from his entire body. His armor and bones faded into thin air. Lydia's sword plunged straight into the ground, embedded deep where Sal's heart would've been.

Lydia's eyes widened, recognizing Sal's now spectral, transparent, intangible appearance, his entire body from head to tail and toes glowing pure bright blue.

Sal rolled safely out of the way, leaving Lydia kneeling awkwardly with her sword half-buried in the dirt. She immediately stood up, wrenching her sword out in the same movement, pulling up soil clumps and severed grassroots as she did so.

Sal climbed to his transparent feet safely away from Lydia, gazing down in awe at his diaphanous form that radiated supernatural energy in all directions.

"Become Ethereal! Lydia! I remembered another Shout!"

"Paarthurnax was right!" Lydia pumped her sword in the air in a congratulatory manner, not the least bit fazed at the sight of Sal's astral body. "'You will find that your spirit will give you more strength.' He knew that you would remember that Shout, and all the others like it in due time! It's like the Dragons are prophets or something!"

"Unslaad zii," Sal recited in flawless Dovahzul and nodded in agreement. "'Where mortal flesh may wither and die, the spirit endures.' So, that's two Shouts remembered…" he mused to himself. "Only…eighteen more to go," he admitted, heaving an unenthusiastic sigh. "Glamorous."

He closed his eyes and concentrated; the last of the spiritual essence dissipated from his body, returning his body to its physical solid state. When he opened his eyes again, Lydia was hanging her head, ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Sal. I got too carried away. I didn't want to hurt you, honest."

"It's all right, Lydia." Sal brushed the backs of his fingers reassuringly across her cheek as he passed by without so much as a glance. "I know you didn't mean it." His voice, while comforting, also sounded flat, distracted, distant.

"Don't you want to finish the duel, Sal?" Lydia watched him walk away. "It's still four to two."

"No," Sal declared assertively, picking up Dragonbane off the ground and sheathing it. "I've seen enough for one day."

"But you're one point away, Sal-Gheel!" Alfarinn stood up, protesting. He held out Sal's Blades Shield for him to take. "You can win right here and now!"

"I'm done," Sal asserted forcefully, his voice hard. The Argonian took his shield but did not turn over his shoulder, and instead headed back in the direction of the stables.

The two Nords exchanged concerned glances, then Lydia also sheathed her sword. "How about we practice our archery, Sal?"

Sal stopped halfway to the stables, his eyes fixed on watching Misty cheerfully eating hay and grass in her stall. After a few seconds of silence, he turned around to face Lydia and nodded.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

Twang! Thud!

A Steel Arrow whizzed through the air and impaled itself deep in the tree trunk of a withered and long-dead ash tree that stood lifelessly near the entrance patio of Shroud Hearth Barrow. Lydia reached into her quiver and pulled out a second arrow, which she worked on notching to the string of her Hunting Bow. Twang! Thud! She loosed the second arrow, and it pierced the tree trunk right beneath the first.

Beside her, Sal notched an arrow to his Imperial Bow and also lifted it to his eye level. He steadied his breathing, slowing it down to barely a whisper as he pulled back the bowstring, aiming at a withered old oak tree standing adjacent to the ash. Alfarinn stood on Sal's other side, still smoking his pipe.

Twang! Thud!

The arrow implanted itself head-deep inside the oak tree trunk. Sal breathed a sigh of relief, lowered his bow, and bent down to fetch a second arrow from his quiver, which leaned upright against a grassy boulder.

"So, the nightmares are getting worse, aren't they?" Lydia asked, her brow furrowed sympathetically. Sal could not mistake the obvious concern in the Nord maiden's eyes.

"No longer just nightmares anymore," Sal explained, absentmindedly twirling his new arrow between his fingers. "They've evolved into flashbacks now."

He looked somberly up at Lydia, who felt her heart wrench in her chest. "When you came swooping down with your sword, for a moment, I thought I saw Alduin himself bearing down on me. I was so frightened for sure that he would eat me right then and there in Sovngarde, and that's what prompted me to remember the Become Ethereal Shout. But it's all right, Lydia," he hastily added when the Nord opened her mouth, clearly to apologize. "You didn't mean it and I've already forgiven you."

Lydia hesitantly closed her mouth. Noticing that she wanted to open it again, Sal put up his other hand. "I don't want to burden anyone with my problems."

Lydia stared agape at the Argonian, honestly taken aback. "Well, I at least appreciate your honesty, Sal. I know you don't want to burden anyone with your problems, Sal, and there's nothing wrong with that. But don't you remember what I told you last night?"

She took her hand off her bowstring and put it on Sal's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "You're not a burden, Sal, and you're not burdening me or anyone else with your problems. You are dearly wanted and very deeply loved. Don't you recall that from yesterday?"

Sal blinked at Lydia, then rubbed the back of his head sheepishly with his free hand. "I'm sorry, Lydia. I must've forgotten it."

Lydia sighed and ran her fingers delicately down Sal's arm until she dropped it by her side. She retrieved a third Steel Arrow from her quiver, notching it to the string while Sal watched and did the same. Both aimed their bows for their second shots. Twang! Thud!

"Lydia…" He met Lydia's eyes, his own suddenly fearful, worried. "How exactly do I escape from this hole that I've dug myself into?"

"Simple," Lydia encouraged, hefting her bow and smiling warmly. "Start climbing up."

Sal prepared for a third shot, aiming above the first two arrows stuck in the oak tree trunk. But his scaly hands began to tremble anxiously. The arrow shuddered unsteadily on the bowstring, which itself was starting to fray and inch away from Sal's fingers.

"Kaoc!" Sal swore and hissed as he lowered his bow. "I can't concentrate!"

He removed the arrow and threw it in annoyance down on the ground. "I can't focus! What in Oblivion is wrong with me that I can't hold a damn bow and arrow for more than a few seconds? Why? If all of this is in my head, then why can't I control it? Was it caused by the Elder Scroll, or is this all my hyperactive mind playing tricks or fighting against me? Did I bring this curse on myself? Have I become my own worst enemy?"

The impact of Lydia's third arrow embedding itself loudly in the dead ash tree and wobbling within the lifeless trunk shook him out of his thoughts.

"That's not going to happen, Sal," Lydia asserted, staring Sal square in the face when he looked back up at her. "I won't let your mind deteriorate any further than it already has. You don't deserve any of this, Sal, not after everything you've been through in your past before you came to Skyrim, and even since. We're going to fix you right up and drive Alduin out of your mind, no matter what the cost."

When Sal raised a scaly eyebrow at her dubiously, she added, "You've spent so much of your life helping others, Sal. Maybe it's time that you did something for yourself for a change."

"But it's getting worse, Lydia," Sal insisted, trying to keep from raising his voice, nervously averting his gaze down to his Blades Boots. "It's gone beyond nightmares now; I'm seeing flashbacks all of a sudden. How long until I start to forget important memories? How long until I lose pleasure in things I once enjoyed? How long until I start hearing voices in my head?"

"Did someone say something about hearing voices?" Sal and Lydia turned, and behind them appeared Wilhelm, the bartender from the Vilemyr Inn. He was idly wiping a dirty tankard with a small oily washcloth. "Nonsense! You're just being immature, Sal-Gheel! You need to grow up!"

Sal's nostrils flared, and his cyan eyes burned a rare orange fire. "Don't tell me to grow up, Wilhelm. You've no idea what I've been through. I've experienced more in mere days than any Nord in Skyrim will in a single week."

Alfarinn appeared on Sal's other side, scoffed, and shook his head, leaning casually to one side and perching his elbow on Sal's shoulder. "Oh, please, Sal-Gheel. Maybe if you were like a Nord, you'd learn to take your problems like a man! You gotta learn not to be a milk-drinker and man up! Stop being a baby and be a Nord!"

"But I'm not a Nord!" Sal roared furiously at the top of his lungs, making Lydia flinch and both Wilhelm and Alfarinn withdraw in fright. Nearby, a flock of birds took flight and flew off in the opposite direction, started by the lizard's outburst.

Sal clenched his fists and advanced on Wilhelm. His searing eyes burned deep into the Nord's.

"Don't tell me to stop being a baby!" Sal ranted. "Don't tell me not to be a milk-drinker and man up! I'm not any Mama's boy, for your information, because I never even had a Mama! If you had so much as the basic decency to understand what I'm going through, what I'm suffering, maybe you'd have a little more empathy for once! Don't tell me to take my problems like a man! I'm not a man like you are! I'm an Argonian who once knew nothing but crying himself to sleep nearly every night for the earliest years of his life! Living without a purpose, a reason, or a home!"

Alfarinn defensively lifted his palms, and Wilhelm nearly dropped the tankard and washcloth, startled.

"Whoa, Sal," Alfarinn tried to nervously laugh off the situation. "I didn't mean anything by it, honestly. Can't you take a joke?"

"Stop it," Sal snarled, rounding on and pointing an accusatory claw at Alfarinn. "You've no idea what it's been like. Of course, you wouldn't, living your prim and pampered lives in Windhelm and Ivarstead. Stop pretending that you do understand when you've never been through it yourself. You sheltered Nords have no right to play the experts!"

"All I'm saying," Wilhelm tried to butt in, also showing his palms in a futile defensive manner. "Is that this is all in your head, Sal-Gheel. You're not sick."

"How would you know that, Wilhelm?" Sal turned back to the bartender, growling and showing his fangs threateningly. "You don't ever want to try to get inside my head; it's too dark and chaotic in there for you," he hissed threateningly from the back of his throat. "If I told you everything that goes inside my mind that you didn't already know, you'd run from here in terror traumatized. You don't know what I've felt; what I've dreamed and had nightmares about. You don't know how many restless nights I've wasted because of them. These nightmares and flashbacks are as real as the clothes we wear and the ground we're standing on and as tangible as a sharpened sword or a bottle of mead. They're only going to get worse before they ever get better, if at all. So don't you dare tell me that it's all in my head!"

"C'mon, Sal-Gheel," Alfarinn interjected. "Pull yourself together!" The Nord carriage driver flexed his arms and muscles, puffing out his chest. "Be a macho muscular man, you know? We're just telling you to grow a spine and grow up-,"

"No, Alfarinn," Sal hissed through gritted teeth with a tone of finality. "It's you who needs to grow a spine and grow up."

Alfarinn and Wilhelm both turned to stare at Lydia, who nodded commandingly as she set up for her fourth shot. "You two had better agree with him, or he'll flatten you and snap your nonexistent spines faster than you can blink."

But Sal had already walked away in the direction of the Barrow, leaving the three Nords standing around awkwardly.

"Sal, where are you going?" Lydia asked, watching him leave.

"I'm going inside the Barrow," Sal explained without looking back. "I just remembered that there's a Word Wall there. I need to meditate; clear my head."

"Now?" Lydia glanced up at the sun and then back at the departing Argonian. "But it's almost lunchtime!"

"I'll meet you at the Vilemyr after I'm done!" Sal called over his shoulder. "You can go on ahead without me! I'll buy my meal when I get back!"

He wrenched open the doors of the Barrow and vanished behind them. They closed with a resounding ominous and stony thud, sealing him inside.

Shroud Hearth Barrow

Sal swung his Blades Shield onto his back and strapped it in place. He checked to ensure that both Dragonbane and his trusty Iron Dagger were both hanging on his belt and within reach. Keeping one hand on Dragonbane, he cautiously descended the winding wooden steps to the main floor of the Barrow.

The tomb around him was dry, dusty, and uncomfortably silent. Sal spat dust and dirt out of his mouth. He had to fold his lips over his teeth to keep from accidentally swallowing. He wrapped his fingers tightly around Dragonbane, his eyes flitting vigilantly every which way.

There was an unnatural crunch beneath his feet when he stepped onto the landing. He glanced down and immediately recoiled at the pile of small bones lying under his Blades Boots. His muscles stiffened and his heart leaped in his chest. But he quickly pulled himself together and continued onwards.

Come on, Sal-Gheel, he reminded himself inside his head. You've been here before.

"But it's been more than a year since then!" he argued with the voice in his conscience.

You found the Word Wall at the end of this place last year, recalled the voice. You can do it again! There's nothing to fear, nothing to worry about. Pull yourself together, you're fine!

Crash!

Sal whirled on his heels and drew Dragonbane in the same motion. He turned around in a slow, meticulous circle, his eyes fixed on the Barrow, the sword pointed outwards defensively in front of him. But the only sounds he heard were the crackling magical sparks coursing along the length of the blade.

Grow up, Sal-Gheel!

Sal sheathed Dragonbane silently. He shook the bone residue off his boots and resumed creeping. At the intersection, he aimlessly entered the room on the left.

He suddenly held his empty hand to his ear, his head ringing with voices, growling, snarling, shouting in his mind ceaselessly.

"Kren sosaal!"

"Qilaan us dilon!"

"Faaz! Paak! Dinok!"

"Stop, stop, stop!" he shouted back at the voices. The Argonian shut his eyes tight and held both of his hands to his ears, pressing them tighter as the voices grew louder, clearer. "Stop!"

"Dir volaan!"

Small rocks and sand trickled down the walls and steps from the doorway behind him. Sal turned around again and thrust Dragonbane outwards.

A dark, shadowy, armored figure stood in the arch at the top of the stairs. Sal tightened his grip around the katana and took a step forward. But the figure did not move.

It's not real, it's not real, it's not real!

"It's real!"

Sal blinked once. The figure had vanished into thin air, leaving a bare doorway behind.

He dropped his hands by his sides, staring blankly at the place where the stranger had been.

Sal, you're not well. You're going crazy. You're seeing things. You're hearing things. You're losing your Argonian mind. You are not in the least bit healthy. We need to do something to fix this now!

"Dragons, Draugr…What's next, Frostbite Spiders?"

In the next room, Sal entered through the open door. He stepped on the pressure plate without seeing it.

"Argh!"

A pair of spears shot straight out of holes in the wall with a metallic sliding and dug into Sal's side. He cried out painfully as they pinned him to the opposite wall.

The helmeted Stormcloak soldier closed in on Sal, his sword jabbing at his enemy's body. Sal moved to jump back to avoid the blow, but the Stormcloak was faster. He stabbed through Sal's Imperial Armor into his right hip just between the lower ribs. The Argonian yelped from the sudden pain. He threw out his fist and punched the Stormcloak in the neck. Opening the fist, he raked his claws along the Nord's exposed flesh. Fresh warm blood coated his fingers as they cut the Nord's neck open. knocking him to the thick snowy ground. Sal clutched the blade stuck in his side, and with pained groans, laboriously wrenched it out.

Sal grabbed the spears using both hands and, groaning in effort and pain, forced it out of his hip and back inside the wall. Breathing heavily, he stumbled through the rest of the room, holding his side. The Blades Cuirass had taken the brunt of the blow, but he still felt traces of blood dripping from the raw flesh beneath his scales.

Yep, it's definitely been a year since then, he admitted begrudgingly to himself without the least bit of amused sarcasm.

He crossed through two more chambers, calming his breathing and stemming his bleeding as he went. He collapsed at the threshold between the puzzle door and the antechamber beyond.

No. No! I can't give up now! I mustn't! My family's future depends on it! Stand up, Sal-Gheel! Quit whining and stand up!

One leg, and then the other. He closed his eyes and pushed himself from his knees to his feet. The pain in his side stung and stabbed, and his blood began to coat his fingers.

Histskin!

Sal reached inside himself down to the depths of his spirit.

"I am Sal-Gheel, child of the Hist of Black Marsh!" he proclaimed fearlessly aloud. "I call upon their power now to come to my aid! I am your child and servant! I call upon the Histskin!"

His body glowed a brilliant emerald-green from head to toe, brighter than all the torches of orange-yellow flame in the Barrow. The bleeding in his wound stopped and the torn flesh reknit itself anew. Sal breathed a sigh of relief as the glowing faded from his body.

He sat down on a stone step and leaned back against a sealed sarcophagus. The blood on his fingers had disappeared, reabsorbed into his body as happened every time he invoked the Histskin. As if moved by the renewed adrenaline in his veins, he stood back up and continued.

He stepped mindfully over dead Draugr corpses, holding Dragonbane readily in his hand. His body jumped of its own accord at every single sound other than his boots upon the hard stone floor. His heart raced in his chest and pounded in his ears. His breathing turned irregular and shallow until he almost panted with dread. Dragonbane swiped and slashed and cut at empty air. Every maneuver sent sparks flying everywhere. But there was nothing to be seen.

What's out there? Why is this happening to me?!

More large spaces, more obstacles, more dead Draugr. Sal's breath caught in his throat and the smell of decaying flesh and bones scorched his nostrils. Through dint of luck and stealth, Sal eventually reached a bridge in an outer room leading to an open portcullis.

Sal took a deep breath and exhaled. You can do this, Sal. You can do this!

He took a tentative step forward, ever so quietly resting his foot on the planks of the wooden bridge. Then a second step, and then a third. Then, as he reached the other side, the last plank snapped in half beneath his feet and broke off from the bridge, falling hopelessly to the room below.

Sal frantically grabbed one of the wooden pillars as the plank broke loose. He clung there for dear life, his feet desperately flailing to grab the stone landing.

The Dragonborn wrapped his arms around the vertebrae of the whalebone bridge in Sovngarde. He glanced down at the pale blue mist below for a brief second – before shutting his eyes and clinging to the bone. His feet scraped slowly along the whale spine, one anxious, paranoid step after another. He opened his eyes and walked gingerly across the bridge. His eyes were set on the Hall of Valor on the other side. Whenever he slipped, he would grab at the vertebrae again to keep from falling. He dared not think or even imagine what might meet him at the bottom if he lost his grip for good.

The boots caught the edge of the stone. Sal summoned his strength and breathed in deep. His inner Dragon spirit roared anew in excited yet desperate anticipation.

"Wuld Nah Kest!"

Whirlwind Sprint propelled his body forward and landed him safely on the other side. He held his hands to his chest to quiet his overexcited heart and steady his breathing before moving on.

Down in the deepest depths of Shroud Hearth Barrow, Sal stood alone at the Word Wall. He ran his fingers over the deep carvings in the stone in the Dragon Language.

"You do not even know our tongue, do you?" Alduin's taunt resonated loudly in the center of his mind. "Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah!"

His fingers stopped at one in particular, "Kaan".

"Kynareth," he whispered to himself. "Kyne, as she's known to the Nords. Kyne's Peace…What I wouldn't give for some peace right now. Gods know I need it."

Sal knelt before the Wall, sitting on his ankles. He closed his eyes and put his hands in his lap.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Deep breaths in, deeper breaths out. Sal's anxieties and agitations steadily fell from his body like water. The walls of his mind opened wide. For a moment, his mind's eye seemed clear and imageless. He spent five whole minutes in meditation. Except for his breathing, the Barrow was silent as a grave.

Sal opened his eyes, gesticulated, and lifted his head.

Alduin's face met his gaze in place of the stone figurehead above the Word Wall. His jaws were stretched wide open. His crimson eyes glared wrathfully at Sal.

Sal screeched out loud and fell back. He drew Dragonbane in his frantic attempt and pointed the blade at Alduin. Yet when he blinked, the face disappeared, leaving only the stone figurehead in its place as normal. But Sal did not lower his weapon nor relinquish his hold on it.

A prince among Dragons. Yeah, right. Thanks a lot, Paarthurnax.

The sounds of small rocks and sand falling from walls and steps came again from behind him. Louder this time. He spun around to see it but saw nothing. The voices rang in his head, rising in volume until they were deafening. Sal pressed his hands hard to his ears. Dragonbane fell from his grasp onto the ground with a clamorous clatter.

"My lord Alduin requires your death. I am glad to oblige him."

"Thurri du hin sille ko Sovngarde!"

"Daanik Kendov!"

"You may have picked up the weapons of my ancient foes, but you are not their equal!"

"You could have been mighty, if fate had decreed otherwise!"

Sal sank to his knees, cradling his head. His heart thumped like a drum in his ears, his breathing ragged and erratic. He shuddered and whimpered, turning his head left and right and up and down as if trying to shake the voices out.

"STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!"

Outside Shroud Hearth Barrow

He didn't see the sun at first. Neither did he feel its warmth upon his scales. Nor did he hear the wind drifting through the trees and grass, or taste the faint frosty chill in the air foretelling the coming of snow that night. Lydia bounded towards him from the direction of the village.

"Sal!" She threw herself at Sal, who caught her in his arms just in time. Lydia wrapped her arms around Sal's neck and held his face in her hands. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Lydia," Sal answered hastily, though lying through his teeth as he held Lydia by the waist. Whether Lydia noticed or not, he didn't know. "I'm all right." He gave her a comforting kiss on the cheek.

Lydia opened her mouth to say something, before being cut off by a panicked cry of "Help!"

Sal and Lydia both turned to see what looked like a large brown bear advancing on a Courier. It growled and roared aggressively, striding up to him like a predator on its prey. The Courier fell onto his back. All color drained from his face. He threw up a hand to defend himself and shielded his eyes. The bear reared its head and bared its claws for an attack.

"Help!" the Courier cried out one more time.

Sal released Lydia and hurried towards the bear, searching his mind for the right Words of Power. Once more, they flashed before his eyes not a second too soon.

"Kaan Drem Ov!"

A blue-yellow shockwave erupted from his mouth. The bear landed softly on the ground in front of the Courier. Its aggression had gone, replaced by serene quietude. It lowered its claws and snapped its jaws taut. Sal walked delicately up to the bear, making soft shushing sounds and placing a docile hand on the animal's back.

"Be calm, great beast," he whispered pacifyingly. "This man's not here to hurt you or infringe on your territory. You're all right. Do not harm him. He is innocent. Go on your way now and know the peace of Kyne."

The bear grumbled low as if agreeing. Then it turned around on its four paws and strode away in the opposite direction.

Sal turned and held out his hand to the Courier. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir," the Courier held his hand to his heart and took Sal's with the other. "Thank you," he added after Sal had helped him to his feet. He wore a leafgreen belted tunic and long hickory trousers, complemented by an inverted sailor's hat and closed-toed hiking boots. "I thought for sure I was dead."

"You're safe now," Sal nodded, trying to force a reassuring smile on his face. "That bear won't hurt you anymore."

"Thank the gods you tamed that bear," Lydia sheathed her Steel Sword and wiped her arm across her brow. "I would sorely hate to have killed it."

"May I help you?" Sal asked the Courier.

"Oh, yes!" the Courier cleared his throat professionally and patted the messenger bag hanging from one shoulder. "I'm looking for Sal-Gheel."

"Yes, I am he," Sal nodded again, raising an eyebrow. "What can I do for you?"

The Courier flipped his messenger bag open and rummaged through it. "I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to deliver. Your hands only."

Sal glanced at the messenger bag, then up at the Courier. His face lit up at the prospect. "Something for me? My hands only?"

"Aye," the Courier looked up and smiled cheerfully at Sal. "First, a letter from the Captain of the Guard in Whiterun. You've got friends in high places, haven't you?"

"You have no idea," Sal muttered under his breath that only Lydia heard.

"Oh, give me that one," Lydia offered, and the Courier gladly passed it to her.

"The other letter comes from the Argonians at the Assemblage in Windhelm," the Courier gave the second to Sal, who took it curiously and with some unmistakable trepidation.

"Thank you for bringing these to us," Sal appreciated the Courier, who nodded in return and sealed his messenger bag. "I've been waiting for good news for a long time."

"Looks like that's it. Got to go." The Courier turned and sprinted off down the road.

Lydia sat down on a boulder outside the Barrow, reading the letter from Whiterun's Captain of the Guard. "Well, what do you know? Remember those Bandits you brawled with at the Bannered Mare a couple of days ago? Commander Caius says that he released them from the Dungeons on good behavior."

"Guess I beat a sense of morality into them, didn't I?" Sal smirked proudly. "Why am I not surprised? I hope they've learned their lessons. If so, maybe I can speak to Balgruuf about granting them amnesty the next time we're in Whiterun."

He pried open the letter from the Argonian Assemblage and began reading. "That's Neetrenaza's handwriting, for sure. I'd recognize it anywhere." For half a minute, he said nothing else. Then, "Oh, gods!"

"What?" Lydia exclaimed in surprised concern and placed her hands on Sal's shoulders. "What is it? Did something happen?"

"No, no, everything's fine!" Sal patted Lydia's hands and kissed her comfortingly on the forehead. "Shahvee laid eggs!"

"She did?!" Lydia gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth, and her face broke out into a smile.

"She did!" Sal declared. He hopped to his feet and spread his arms wide towards the sunny sky. "My wife laid eggs! It's a miracle!"

"Hooray, Sal-Gheel!" Lydia also sprang to her feet and took Sal in a bear hug. They spun in circles, laughing and crying in uncontained joy.

"A father, Lydia!" Sal could not stop the tears of joy from streaming down his cheeks. "I'm going to be a father!"

"Congratulations, Sal!" Lydia let Sal hoist her up and spin her around and around, kicking up dirt and grass everywhere.

Suddenly, his face fell, and he lowered his hands by his side, his shoulders slumping forward.

"Wait a moment. I just realized...Shahvee…my wife…She laid eggs, and I wasn't there to see it."

"Oh, Sal," Lydia rubbed his back sympathetically. "It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is my fault!" Sal protested, shrugging nonchalantly. "If I had known she would lay the eggs sooner rather than later, I would've waited to leave Windhelm! And even then, I would've chosen to stay for her, for my hatchlings! For my family!"

"Well, in that case, let's not waste another minute!" Lydia folded up the letter from Whiterun and dropped it in her travel pack. She snapped her fingers and dashed off in the direction of Ivarstead. "We'd better take you back to Windhelm right now!"

At the stables, Sal told Alfarinn the good news while Lydia helped prepare Misty and the carriage.

"Gods be praised!" Alfarinn raised his palms towards the sky. "Congratulations, Sal-Gheel! This adventure just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"Are you sure you want to come to Windhelm with me, Lydia?" Sal asked, starting to strip off his Blades Armor. "If you don't, I fully understand. If you'd rather we drop you off at Whiterun on the way—,"

"No," Lydia asserted, putting her hand on Sal's chest. "I promised I'd see this journey through to the very end. I promised you and I promised myself. That's what I'm going to do. I figure I owe it to you and Shahvee, after everything you two have done for me."

Sal nodded in agreement. "I understand." He packed away his Blades Armor, climbed into the back of the carriage, and sat down. Lydia followed suit, laying her head in Sal's lap.

"We're going home, Misty!" Alfarinn announced excitedly as he climbed into the driver's seat. Misty neighed happily in response.

The horse and carriage bolted away dramatically into the mid-afternoon sun, carrying its restless passengers homeward.