Going Home

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Cassia and Dulurza had not been flashily teleported out of the sanctum to the summit of the mountain, which meant that they'd had to walk the whole way back up through the temple.

Neither of them was very happy about this.

"I gotta admit, I was kind of expecting...more." Cassia panted, climbing up yet another set of stairs.

"How do you mean?" Dulurza asked, not struggling in the slightest.

"I mean I just did a dungeon crawl." Cassia explained. "Adventurers do those all the time. They're supposed to be epic and dramatic, but this just felt...underwhelming."

There was a cough from all around them and she amended "The temple was great! The architecture was awesome, but, the challenge wasn't very epic."

Meridia seemed content to allow that.

"Well trust me, you'll get used to it." Dulurza told her, pulling open a pair of doors and stepping into the outside air. "To be honest, just about every other adventure I've gotten roped up in has been punctuated by some epic final clash or dramatic revelation. I'm glad that for once, I've had a dungeon crawl where nothing unexpected...happened..." she stopped.

Cassia almost bumped into the back of her, then peeked round to see what she was looking at.

"Hey little sis." Borgakh grinned, sat leaning against Meridia's statue. "Been too long."

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Hjar's body crashed into a rough stone outcropping, and she immediately realised she'd made a Very Bad Decision.

The water roared around her, fast and deafening, forcing her forwards through the passage and deeper into the stone of the mountain. She had shut her eyes (her surroundings were pitch-black anyway) and only had her sense of touch to guide her. Which was a problem. Because her sense of touch was telling her pain.

The water could have been nice enough to smoothen the rock for her, and while it had (to a degree) at the bottom of the narrow passage she was being dragged through, the water wasn't actually completely filling the space. There was a thin sliver of air just at the top of the passage, but that meant the stone above her was sharp, pitted and cracked, and the water frothed and bubbled in the space. She hadn't dared to try and surface and take a breath, not at the speed she was going, and her ineffectual scrabblings has only served to leave lacerations across both arms, not slow her down.

This was bad, because she was running out of air.

Hjar eventually elected to try to shield her head with both hands (why did I decide to go down the death waterslide head first) and kick herself further down the passage with her legs, wincing every time a knee or foot cracked against a stone outcropping.

Come on, come on. There are waterways in the city, this has to lead there. Or maybe to the ones outside the excavation? Hircine, I can't even think in here! How far have I even gone? How fast am I going?

It felt fast, but she had no frame of reference, no idea if she'd turned or she was still heading directly out of Understone. Direction was near impossible to determine as well, but she thought she was still going downwards. How far down? Would she come out in the city, or was she just falling deeper and deeper into the earth, her passage taking her down into the very crust of Mundus as the light of the sun grew farther and farther and-

Stop thinking about it, don't think about it, don't think about how your lungs are starting to throb either, just try to minimise movement and pray that-

A wall of stone slammed into her stomach.

The impact forced her mouth open, and any air she'd kept in her lungs was gone in an instant. Water filled her mouth, went up her nose, and it was all she could do to stop herself swallowing.

Oh dear lord it's stopped, that's the end, I'm going to-

Wait. Calm down. It hit my stomach. I was going head first.

A wriggle confirmed her suspicions; she hadn't hit the end, there was merely a bar of stone stretching between either wall of the passage. The water flowed past it, her head was already past it, and as her lungs burned she frantically scrambled and forced herself through the tiny opening between it's top and the ceiling. Her back scraped against the roof and she tried not to scream again, pulling her torso, then legs through and continuing.

Now or never, come on, come on-

The passage was tightening even further, she could have sworn another had branched off at some point, she was now having to forcibly pull herself through the gaps in the rock,

Have to be nearly there now, and-Wait. Is that light?

That was when her body stuck again.

She opened her eyes and regretted it, the water stung, as did the dozens of shards of rock she'd disturbed on her way through. But she could see, dim shapes in her way in the darkness, meaning there must be some source of light ahead of her if she could just reach it.

But she couldn't reach it. Three or more large stone outcroppings stuck out in the tunnel, entangling her legs, arms, and jamming into one shoulder. She tried to wriggle past, but couldn't, there just wasn't the room.

No. No, no, come on-

Her lungs were on fire, her head was throbbing, she had no idea how long it had been since she'd last taken a breath. She heaved against the stone in the way, heaved again, but it didn't budge.

The claustrophobia was intense, nothing but stone on all sides and the water rushing past her, she couldn't move, let me out let me out-

The wolf inside her howled, and she forced some of her attention inwards to clamp down on it. As much as the extra strength would be lovely, she did not need to grow almost double her body mass right now, shuddered to think what that would even do to her without the space to transform.

Come on, come on, don't let me die here I REFUSE TO DIE HERE-

She heaved, heaved again, then backed up and forcibly started ramming her body into the stone in her way, desperation the only thing fuelling her movements, even as the exhaustion made the pain in her lungs intensify even further.

She couldn't continue. She had to take a breath, had to at least try-

There was a cracking noise. Not from her, there had been plenty of those already, from the stone.

Hope and fear the only things she could even process, Hjar slammed herself into the rock again, again, and-

With another loud crack, one of the outcroppings gave way, tumbling ahead of her down the passage. She scrambled forwards, contorting her body to slip around the remaining and after it, finally free, as the light against her eyelids intensified-

And suddenly, the stone was gone.

There was a brief moment of vertigo, nothing above, beneath or around her, just spraying water and air-

She sucked in a single, choked breath.

Then hit the water of the canal with an echoing splash.

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A pair of stone double doors in Labyrinthian were thrown open, slamming very dramatically against either wall. Through it strode an Elven man in black hooded robes.

"Ah, there you are." The Mer smirked. "I'm so glad we could-BY THE EIGHT-"

Xander tilted his head, watching the Elf stumble backwards. "What are you-oh, right, the mask." He pulled off Morokei's visage, revealing his face. "Sorry, it just looked really cool, I couldn't help it. Plus, you know. Look at me." He gestured to his own face. It was covered in scars and burn marks, puffing up red.

"Ngh-well, good then." The elf straightened, coughing. "I am Estormo. Ancano sent me a message that you would be here."

"Ancan-who?" Xander asked.

"An-Ancano? The-"

"How did you even get down here? I thought you needed the Torc to-"

"You left the door unlocked."

"Oh. Oh, yeah, that makes sense..."

Xander nodded in enlightenment, and Estormo sighed. "It-Whatever. Point is, I will be requiring that staff now."

Xander hefted the staff in his right hand, looking at it. He couldn't for the life of him tell whether Magnus' tool was made of wood or metal, or how the magic swirling about it's tip functioned. This is going to require some serious studying...

"Yeah...no?"

"I thought you might say that." Magic flashed into existence in Estormo's hands. "But you would be a fool to refuse. I am a justiciar of the Thalmor, boy. I am a greater mage than any apprentice who could ever rise from your pathetic northern-"

Xander shot the staff at him.

Estormo was quick to raise a ward, but the blast of magicka-consuming light tore straight through it, striking the Altmer in the chest and making him gasp in pain.

Xander gasped as well, but not for the same reason.

Magical energy flooded up into him, passing through the staff up through his hand and revitalising his smarting reserves. It was...power. More power than he'd ever felt in his life. Now his body was throbbing again, but the pain was of his circuits expanding to absorb the magicka of a fully grown professional Elven mage.

Idly, he stretched his other arm out, feeling the magic dance between his fingers.

I can...I can do anything...

He picked a spell, clenched his fingers together, and then cast it.

A purple swirl appeared in front of him, and the air intensified with electricity as a being of lightning and stone rose from a portal to another realm.

A Storm Atronach. And this time...I'm casting it by myself. Really casting it. Sure, I'm not using my own magicka to do it, but...

He started giggling helplessly, as his summon turned to him for orders. "Hehehe...I have memorised so many spells...and now I can cast them." He glanced over at Estormo, halting the staff's attack and asking "Did you really not expect me to do that? You decided to challenge someone with a powerful magical staff and you didn't consider him using it against you?"

Estormo whimpered weakly, sagged against the doorframe.

"Informative." Xander looked at the Atronach, and tilted his head meaningfully at the Altmer.

It slammed it's hands together, and put a bolt of lightning into Estormo's face, sending him tumbling back into to the next room.

Annoyingly, the extra magicka Xander had consumed didn't want to stay. He could feel it draining out of his body, his skin prickling as he dropped back down to his previous reserves.

"Annoying...Thank you very much, you're free to go." Xander lowered his head respectfully to the Atronach (respect is important), and let it disassemble as he walked on. He needed to get back to Winterhold, and he needed to get there fast.

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Dulurza stared in surprise at her older sister. "Borgakh? You...how did you know I was here?"

Borgakh pointed a finger back at the statue as she pushed herself off it. "Was on my way to Solitude when this thing lit up like a lighthouse. I would have checked it out anyway, but thought the odds you were involved were high." She grinned. "Guess I was right. What're you doing out here? I could've sworn you were busy with something important."

Cassia looked between the two of them, eyes wide. "This is your sister? Wait, does she work for the Jarl too, or is she-"

"Not exactly." Dulurza grit her teeth. "Hey, fireball, is it okay if you go on ahead? Me and my sister need to have a family talk."

"Oh. Oh, okay, absolutely." Cassia backed up with a chuckle. "I've had plenty of those growing up. Uh, I'll wait for you at the gates to Solitude if you haven't caught up by then, okay?"

"Sure. Go on."

With that incredibly awkward goodbye, Cassia walked on down the mountain path.

A minute or so later, when they were definitely alone, Borgakh asked "She work for Solitude? If she does, it might be easier for us to take her out now, blame it on whatever happened in your dungeon."

Dulurza winced. "No." She vetoed. "She's just a mercenary; she'll be long gone before we attack."

"Huh. If that's the case, she'll have to get gone pretty fast."

Dulurza glanced at Borgakh in confusion, and she elaborated "The attack. We're planning to make it tomorrow evening."

"What?" Dulurza gaped. "Already?"

"It's only a day ahead of schedule." Borgakh chuckled. "Father told you when you could expect it, aye?"

"He did. I just...lost track of time..." Dulurza looked off into the distance. Solitude was visible from their vantage point, the outcropping where it lied dwarfing other features in the landscape.

"Of course, that all depends on you." Borgakh continued, oblivious. "We can put it off for a day or two if that's what you need to get that Jarl of theirs outside the walls. I wouldn't wait if I were you though. The tribe's getting restless, and if they start hovering near the walls it's only so long before they're seen."

Dulurza exhaled, heavily. "Right." She nodded. "Of course, I...I might not be able to get her completely alone. Her housecarl, uh, that's a Nord bodyguard, he almost never leaves her side, and after the madness that's happened recently she can hardly go anywhere without a squadron of guards-"

"Ah, but that's where your genius big sister comes in!" Borgakh clapped an arm around Dulurza's shoulders, making her flinch. "These next few days, I'm your point of contact and your backup! There's a few nice spots in the woods near the city that me and a few of the boys have picked out. I'll take you to them on the way there. Pick one, let me know in advance, get the bitch there, and a full five of us will be waiting to ambush her. With you alongside us, it might even be better if you can get some of the guards to come with. It'd make the next part easier."

"Y-yeah..." Dulurza frowned. I'm bound to have to kill Bolgier at some point...suppose I should get it out of the way...She recalled the face of one of the few sane people in the palace, and her gut twisted.

Borgakh noticed, and frowned. "You alright sis? Not getting cold feet are you?"

"What? No, no, I'm fine." Dulurza shook her head, and tried to smile. "Just...some shell-shock from a stray fireball back in the temple, it'll be gone by the time I get back."

"Friendly fire? Malacath, what an outrage. You sure you don't want to kill that girl first-"

"I'm sure." Dulurza cut across, shoving her sister's arm off her with a huff.

"Alright, fine." Borgakh scrutinised her face for a moment, before shrugging. "Well, it's your mission. But you can get the Jarl out, right?"

"Aye." Dulurza replied, hollowly. "I can get her out."

8˂

The head of a bloodied, broken, beaten, bruised Breton burst from the surface of one of Markarth's waterways.

Hjar took a series of desperate gulps of air, floundering in the water, blinking her stinging eyes and just managing to grab onto the edge of the canal, halting her progress.

She heaved, sagged, then heaved again, pulling herself up onto the side of the waterway. Then she put her arms beneath her, and heaved up the contents of her stomach onto the stone. At this point, that was mostly just dirty water. It was only after thirty seconds or so of that that she allowed herself to collapse onto her side, curling up into the foetal position and shivering.

Okay...in hindsight...should have just let the wolf loose in the keep.

She lay there for a few seconds, trying to stabilise her breathing and take a stock of her injuries. Jaw, fingers, ribs, lacerations everywhere, bruises...oh, I give up.

"To..." she coughed. "To any gods, ngh, anywhere who might be listening...a little help?"

She was answered by a shrill, cat-like scream, and then something crashed into the waterway next to her.

Hjar scrambled away as the water bubbled a bit, and then the sopping wet form of a Khajiit pulled itself up out of it.

"Haah...Once again, L'laarzen proves that this...waterproof bag was the best twenty septims...she ever spent..."

The Khajiit stood up and shook itself thoroughly, tossing water on everything nearby, before finally taking a look at it's surroundings and blinking. "Hjar?"

"L'laarzen?" Hjar gaped, trying to at least sit up. "What the-where did you just come from?"

"Calcelmo's tower." L'laarzen smiled brightly. "Khajiit was on her way out, saw a waterfall. Thought 'why not?'." She looked Hjar up and down, and her expression went from happy to concerned. "Oh, my dear, what happened to you?"

"It's nothing." Hjar blatantly lied as the Khajiit rushed to her side, but then winced at a spike of pain in her jaw. "Okay, it's not nothing. It's everything. I just took the worst possible path out of Understone, and...Ow."

"You poor thing..." L'laarzen crouched down beside her, bringing up a simple healing spell in her hands and pointing it towards the wounds. It was nowhere near enough to repair her major injuries, but the pain started to ease. "Did the friend at least get the answers she was looking for?"

"No. Or, yes, but-" Hjar shook her head, trying to reorder her thoughts. What even...oh, right. I killed the Jarl. Oh, Daedra, I just murdered the Jarl of Markarth. It hadn't really registered the first time she'd agreed to do it; didn't really register now. But this was big. This was the kind of thing people wrote history books about.

"I got answers." She replied, eventually. "But...they just left me with more questions." Hjar's eyes glanced down from L'laarzen's face, and then they widened and snapped back up. "Um. For instance. Why are you naked?"

"Hm? Oh!" L'laarzen jumped back a step, moving arms to cover herself. "A thousand apologies! Only, unless I have enchanted equipment it is better that I not-"

"No, it's fine." Hjar chuckled, briefly feeling almost like a person again. "I, too, have been known to go about as nature intended." There was something in the back of her mind raising flags about a naked animal committing crimes...but now wasn't the time to pursue it. She looked up towards Understone Keep, where shouting could be heard over the roaring of the nearby waterfall. Said waterfall had concealed their presence thus far, along with the darkness and the lack of observers. But that wasn't going to last.

"You should go." Hjar advised. "Quickly. I...may have raised some alarms up there, and I think they'll probably want to close the city down. If you're fast, you might be able to beat the news to the front gate."

"Khajiit understands." L'laarzen nodded, before looking up and giggling. "Your hair has been thrown quite into disarray. L'laarzen shall have to fix that Mohawk for you another time, then. May your feet bring you to warm sands, and good luck!" With that, she waved, and scarpered off into the city. Hjar lost track of her within five seconds.

"Right then..." she gingerly got to her feet, crashing back onto her side the first time as she put too much weight on the wrong foot. Should have gotten Alexander to teach me some healing spells...but she could walk without limping, and stand tall if she was willing to ignore the pain. It was enough.

As guards armed with swords and torches flooded the city, Hjar made her way up to the Dwarven ruin. In her mind, she prepared herself to meet her family.

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"Good session overall, I should think?"

"Oh, undoubtedly. The Jarl said yes to almost everything. I didn't dare say it, but I wasn't even sure she was paying attention."

"Even compared to how passive she was before recent events, indeed."

"Until it came to Erikur's turn."

"Oh, yes. I almost pity the man. Though it was funny to watch the Jarl tear his idea to shreds."

"I don't think I've ever seen her that angry."

"She was troubled during our last meeting too...do you think she's ill, perhaps?"

"It wouldn't surprise me. Especially after the attack so recently by her Court Wizard..."

"I was impressed at her willingness to resume her duties so quickly, but..."

"Certainly wouldn't want her to hurt herself..."

Such words were the nobles speaking, as Dulurza and Cassia walked past them and up into the Blue Palace.

"You know, I've heard a lot of rumours about a lot of court scandals." Cassia whispered. "But somehow, actually knowing the root of those scandals makes the rumours feel even juicier."

"Hm." Dulurza replied, noncommittally. Her thoughts were swirling around her head, and it was hard enough just to put one foot in front of the other.

Bolgier Bearclaw saw them approach, and without hesitation beckoned them to follow him, leading them to the Jarl's quarters. Worryingly, Elisif's voice could be heard even before the door was opened.

"I've tried reciting prayers, Styrr, I've recited everything I could think of, but not even my wedding vows were sacred enough to shut her up." Elisif was sat down with her head in her hands and a half-empty glass of wine by her side, but she quickly looked up the moment the trio came in. "Dulurza! Oh, thank the Nine-"

"Thank the Eight." Styrr reminded her, wincing-

"Styrr, in the privacy of my home I'll thank the damn Daedra if I want to." Elisif stood, and her gaze fell to the weapon sheathed at Dulurza's hip. "In fact, by the looks of things, the Daedra might be the most appropriate choice. Is that it?"

"Aye." Dulurza put one hand to the hilt of the sword. "This is it. Dawnbreaker." The gem at the top of the hilt glowed with golden light, which felt warm like the midday sun. Even the hilt itself felt hot, and Dulurza worried that if she tried to hold it for too long it would burn her.

"This is so, so not okay..." Styrr whimpered. "I'm just going to turn around and face the wall. That way when I'm called upon to explain this, I'll at least have some measure of deniability..."

Elisif herself froze in place for a moment, before a nervous smile broke out on her face. "Well, Potema is absolutely panicking in my head right now. Which I think is a good sign?"

"Let's hope." Cassia looked at the sword. "Lady Meridia? Mind talking so we can all hear you?"

There was a beat. Then,

Oh, go on, let's break all the rules. The voice emanated out from the blade, and Bolgier quickly shut the door to the rest of the Palace. At this point I'm just excited to get to smite a ghost again, it's been so long!

"My lady." Styrr warned, still looking at the wall. "I must warn you. If Potema feels threatened by this, she may...lash out. I cannot predict what may happen, but please, exercise the utmost caution."

Everyone else looked shiftily at each other. Bolgier loosened his weapon in it's sheath, and Cassia lit up some Restoration magic in her hands. Dulurza just looked to Elisif, who nodded. "I'm ready. Go ahead."

"Okay." Dulurza glanced down. "Meridia? What's the plan, step-by-step? And should I be handing this to either of the mages...?"

Oh, no, you'll be quite sufficient. Meridia's voice took on a patient, instructive tone. First: unsheathe the blade.

Dulurza did so. Dawnbreaker's steel (if it even was steel) came free with a beautiful metallic ring. The blade shimmered just like it's hilt, and with the curtains drawn closed it was the brightest thing in the room, illuminating the faces of everyone present with the light of dawn.

"Oh, she didn't like that." Elisif gulped, steeling herself, "I'd hurry. I think she's planning something."

"Right." Dulurza gripped the sword in both hands. "Meridia? Step two?"

Step two: Meridia answered calmly, and this might be the difficult part.

"I can handle it."

Good! Stab her.

Dulurza took a step forward-

Then froze.

"...What?"

Stab her. Meridia repeated. With the Dawnbreaker, to be more specific, though really any old pointy thing would work. My blade is the optimum smiting tool, but there are alternatives.

Dulurza looked down at the sword, back up at a shocked Elisif, back down, back up, and back down again. "...And step three?"

There is no step three.

"Stabbing her will kill her."

Well obviously, yes. She'll be incinerated. That's what we're going for, right?

The room fell into uproar. Styrr turned around and started shouting, Bolgier and Cassia threw their own exclamations into the mix, and Elisif stumbled backwards into her chair, pale-faced. The phrase that just about all of them said at one point was "Do not set the Jarl on fire!"

Dulurza slammed the Dawnbreaker back into its sheath, glaring at the sword. "That's it? That's all you can do?"

Yes! Darling, I'm The Cleansing Light. Meridia sounded offended. If you have dirt on your floors, you can wipe off the dirt and keep the floors intact, of course. But if you have a dirt floor, your only resort is to dig the thing up and lay some proper stone in its place.

"What does that even mean?"

Haah...Meridia sighed, her tone taking on that of someone lecturing to a child. My dear, your Jarl and her passenger are Twin Souls. I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it, it's a concept mainly used by necromancers (blegh) when trying to more effectively command larger numbers of undead. It means that they are bound together so tightly it is impossible to separate one from the other, and that bond will only grow stronger as time passes.

Elisif had gone as white as a sheet, as Meridia continued: Each feels what the other feels. Now that means pain, but moving forwards, it will be emotions. Thoughts. Memories. Eventually, they will become as one being. Or, more likely, that nasty witch-ghost will subjugate her host entirely and keep her locked up in a mental cage. I tried to have Potema killed a few hundred years ago, but the wench got caught up by one of the other Daedra she owed before I could get to her...

There was an unladylike snort, and everyone turned to Elisif, who had clapped her hands in front of her mouth to poorly conceal a smile. "She's laughing." The Jarl croaked out, shoulders shaking. "She-hah! She can't stop laughing, and-and I can't stop laughing-"

Styrr, Bolgier and Cassia all rushed in, but Dulurza just sagged back against the door. She felt exhausted.

Pitiful. Meridia remarked, sadly. And it's no fault of the girl's own. If you do put her out of her misery, I assure you I will allow her soul free passage to the Aetherius. But that ghost will get no such mercy-

"Do me a favour." Dulurza said, through gritted teeth. "Shut. Up."

She closed her eyes, as the forced laughter of her Jarl echoed through the room.

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Winterhold laid empty. It's hearths were cold, it's doors left hanging open. It's people, however, were all gathered some miles away, in a ramshackle collection of tents along the road. People huddled together around quickly built fires (most lit by spell-fire), wrapped in the thickest coats they'd been able to bring before abandoning their city. Nord citizens and mages moved together, gathering supplies, erecting shelters, and trying not to get into fistfights. They were hardly working together out of choice; more an urgent sense of necessity, one that overrode the bitter rage that the former held for the latter.

It had been eighteen hours since they'd been forced to leave. They'd already had to move again once more since then. At the edge of it all, Mirabelle Ervine stood with her arms crossed, shivering, and watched the force-field expand. Her teeth chattered, and her eyes had deep bags underneath them. It had been almost twenty four hours since she'd slept.

"How's it looking?" A voice called from behind her.

She turned, and sighed. "Tolfdir. About as bad as you'd expect." She pointed her arm up into the distance. "If you look closely there, you can see that it's almost clipping the arm of the statue of Azura."

"Hmm..." He came up behind her and squinted. The great translucent blue sphere dwarfed the horizon. It had grown so large that it was impossible to see the whole shield at once, and they were still hundreds of metres away from it. "My old eyes can't quite tell, through the storm." He admitted. "Faralda believes that the magicka it radiates is disturbing the clouds in the sky, and that's what's causing this ghastly weather."

"Or it's just Skyrim being the fickle land she always is." Mirabelle sighed. "Neither would surprise me. This country's weather is ridiculous, but that dome is certainly high enough to be touching the clouds...do we have an equation for its expansion rate yet?"

"Colette has a few that might hold true." Tolfdir sighed. "The most accurate thus far is the one that models the rate of volume increase as linearly increasing. That is, a constant acceleration. She reported from a trip to it's edge that it's widening more than fast enough to be seen by the naked eye now."

"Any new ways in?"

"We ran through that list of tests our first meeting came up with. Results are fairly conclusive. The barrier repels anything magical. Inorganic, and sufficiently simple organic life (that meaning plants) are all allowed through. Faralda took a variety of potency potions and tried to breach it with her spells, but no luck. We even got a volunteer from the city to be magicka-drained and then attempt to cross, but again, no luck." He glanced at her. "What about your end?"

Mirabelle sighed as well. "Korir looks about to have an aneurysm, but he's functioning surprisingly well. Losing his city seems to have taken the last of his pride, now he's just doing whatever he has to to keep his people safe. The apprentices are behaving themselves, which is good. Offering help to the citizens, running requests from officials to teachers and back again. We think everyone's accounted for, at least those who were in Winterhold when it happened. Oh, except Enthir, who vanished a few hours before we had to evacuate and nobody's seen him since. Never should have hired that slimy bastard..." she pinched her nose and groaned. "Letters have been sent to Jarl Ulfric, and then received again. I've undone months of careful neutrality in a moment, but he's declared he's willing to accept refugees into his city. Divines know what he'll want from us in return, though. I was about to go and speak to Korir about fully committing and making the evacuation to Windhelm."

"Well, Ulfric won't have long to extort our secrets out of us." Tolfdir replied, with some false cheer. "If Colette's models are correct, we have less than forty eight hours before it engulfs Windhelm and Dawnstar. Less than a day after that before it covers the whole of Skyrim."

"Damnit..." Mirabelle cursed. "And here we are. The greatest mages in the country, with no idea what to do..." She looked back up at the force field (several kilometres away, but growing closer by the second), and sighed again, turning back to the camp. "I'll tell Korir we need to move, get to Windhelm as fast as we can. We're just wasting time here. Deal with the cold trek, down sleeping droughts, pass out for eight hours and then wake up and find a way to deal with this. First though I want to send communiques to Whiterun and Morthal, they're the closest to Labyrinthian and that just might be our only-"

"ANOMALIES!"

The call came from somewhere in the camp, and was echoed half a dozen times. Mirabelle swore to herself and looked up, spotting four of the blue lights swirling through the sky towards them. They were released periodically in pulses from the College, and always there was a group that ended up drawn to the camp.

"Hold fast!" She shouted. She wasn't entirely sure what it meant, it was just a thing the Nords yelled a lot. "You know the plan! Lightning from a distance, fire if they get close! Shields and blunt weapons!"

The guards rushed up to the edge of the camp, forming ranks with the mages as they prepared to meet the threat.

Mirabelle tiredly prepared a lightning spell in her palms-

Only for a beam of blue light to blast through the air towards the anomalies. It scythed through one, two, then all four of them, making them unravel into nothingness in an instant.

Mirabelle turned around, tracking the beam to it's source...

Then her jaw dropped.

A figure strode out of the storm.

His robes resembled the finery of a Thalmor justiciar, but augmented by a thick black cloak that bloomed out behind him in the wind. One arm had a golden circlet worn above the elbow, while the opposite shoulder had a silver mask strapped to it, both somehow gleaming despite the low light. One hand rested on the pommel of a black sword, sheathed at his waist, while the other gripped tightly onto an ornate, humming staff.

A cloud of ice blew out from his lips, briefly concealing his face, before the wind snatched it away. His eyes were hard like steel, and his black hair was cut short and sharp, seemingly untouched by the weather. His mouth was set in a hard line.

He looked over the crowd as he walked, approaching the centre of the camp. "PEOPLE OF WINTERHOLD! DO NOT BE AFRAID!" He called. His lips quirked up into a smile. "I'm here to help."

Mirabelle Ervine was running before she even realised what she was doing, sliding to a stop in the snow not a foot in front of him. She felt the urge to bring up a hand and slap him, but suppressed it, settling on shouting "You've got some bloody cheek!" In his face.

Alexander Meteuse blinked, then broke into an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I suppose I am a little late. Um, about before-"

She didn't give him a chance to finish, running forwards and crashing into him. He stumbled back a step and she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her head to the side of his. "I'm so sorry." She whispered. "I should have caught you."

"...Oh." He replied. "Well, in your defence, I had just used ancient magic to turn myself intangible."

"That's no excuse." She gripped harder. "I should have...didn't mean to...I thought you were dead."

"Dead? Now don't be ridiculous. Nothing can kill me." He shifted, then gently lifted her away from him. "How about we sort this first, then explain later?"

She nodded, and he smiled, then inhaled and spoke once more to the crowd around them. "I'm going to bring down the barrier!" He declared. "You may as well return to your homes; there'll be no running away if this doesn't work! Mages, rally behind me! I'm going to stop this at its source, but more anomalies might be released while I'm doing so! And...one of you might need to pick the staff up if I fail."

With that, he strode forwards again.

People parted before him, muttering amongst themselves as they realised who he was, and allowing him to reach the edge of the camp.

There, he reached out and pointed his staff at the great wall of blue light stretching ahead of them.

A beam of energy blasted forth from the staff, striking into the barrier, and there was a loud crackling noise as the two powers interacted. Alexander hummed out the word "Interesting..." and twisted the staff.

Those watching gasped in amazement, as a great hole began to expand from the point of contact of the staff's beam. Eventually, when it was more than a hundred metres tall and wide, Xander pulled his weapon back. He casually waved his other hand, and an enormous wave of magical force blew outwards, ice and snow being blasted away to reveal the stone of the road beneath it.

"Now then!" He shouted. "Let's take our home back!"

With that, he started walking towards the College.

Mirabelle didn't hesitate a second before following after him.

Oh, I'm an awful person. What, did you think I would have Dulurza point the sword at Elisif and magically solve her problems? It's a sword. Meridia is a Daedra. It's not going to be that easy.

Hjar is also in a right old state, having gone through my best attempt to induce aquaphobia and claustrophobia in my audience. I'm sorry about that. But at least she has L'laarzen there to fall out of the sky and offer encouragement! Like an unusually furry guardian angel...

Meanwhile Xander is finally having his Moment. Time for all that sweat, sweat and sweat to finally pay off. Of course, he's still got one of the most ridiculous fights in the game coming up. Ah, Ancano. Half the time he snaps like a piece of dry spaghetti and then the other half he's an unkillable self-healing demigod. I still can never figure out exactly how that fight's meant to go...

Next Time: Someone meets their allies, someone meets their friends, and someone meets their family.