Dovahkiraan: The Story of the Dragonborn

by HawkeyeNextGen

Adonis "Don" K'hotei is no ordinary Dunmer. His earlier years were almost nothing short than that of a tragedy. Trying to remember a past he had long forgotten, he comes across new and familiar faces in the land of Skyrim, and sure enough begins to walk a new path of life, the path of the Dragonborn.

7. The Call of the Hunt

Chapter 7: The Call of the Hunt

My time in the Companions was proving beneficial. I couldn't remember the first time I had felt a sense of honor. I felt a new appreciation for tradition and honor. Although, I must admit, I haven't put much thought into being a part of a group where I'd exist among Werewolves. Did it really matter so much? Understandably, such a supernatural and terrifying display would cause a hefty quantity of unsettlement around the public. But I knew my shield-brothers and sisters as if they were my own family, and family is something I value deeply. One night I would come to understand the world from the eyes of a beastblood.

The Silver Hand as I have come to known them as, were a group dedicated to hunting down and exterminating werewolves. If I weren't any the wiser, I would've assumed it to be an honorable cause, but the Silver Hand knows anything but. They hunt down werewolves no matter the victim, even if it was the Inner Circle. But was looking through the eyes of a werewolf the same as looking through the eyes of the Inner Circle? It's enough to make a person think.

It began one night while I was having dinner with the rest of the Companions. Vilkas, Njada and I had spent the day exploring the ruins of Volenruud. Along the way, we also ran into a number of Draugr. But with our combined strength, they were little match for us, especially since I had learned a number of new shouts by that time, including my favorite; fire. I was spending tomorrow with Inigo and Sofia until Skjor asked me to join him one night. I saw that the moon was full that night as I walked towards the base of the rock that the Skyforge sat upon. He stopped walking and turned his attention towards me. "Are you prepared Don?" He asked.

"Prepared for what?" I asked before he pressed his hand against the rock, which revealed a secret entrance concealed by the vines and camouflaged within the rock. "What is this place?"

"The Underforge. Jorrvaskr is the oldest building in Whiterun. The Skyforge was here long before it was. And the Underforge taps into an ancient magic that is older than men or elves. From what we've learned it was built by the devotees of fair Lord Hircene, the Daedric Prince of the Hunt. We bring you here to make you stronger, new blood. Now let's move." He said before he walked into the tunnel, with me following shortly after. No sooner did we enter a sanctuary. There was a small altar with a stone carved bowl on top, illuminated by three holes that shined in the moon's light. I felt startled when I caught sight of a werewolf stepping out of the shadows. The fact that it didn't start attacking me or Skjor made me realize it must've been one of the Companions.

"I'm glad you came. It's been a long time since we had a heart like yours among our numbers." He said.

"So, what am I supposed to partake in?" I asked.

"To reach the heights of the Companions, you must join with us in the shared blood of the wolf." He said. "I would hope you recognize Aela, even in this form. She's agreed to be your benefactor."

"Will I regret asking why?"

"That pitiful ceremony behind the hall does not befit warriors like us. You are due more honor than some calls and feasting."

"Pitiful? Due more honor? What are you talking about?"

"We do this in secret because Kodlak is too busy trying to throw away this great gift we've been granted. He thinks we've been cursed. But we've been blessed. How can something that gives this kind of prowess be a curse?"

"I'm sure he has his reasons."

"Are you prepared to join your spirit with the beast world, friend?" He asked. I gulped, feeling nervous about the idea of becoming a werewolf.

"What will happen to me when I become one?" I questioned.

"Nothing, until you choose to use it. When you do, you'll get a taste for the hunt. You'll be stronger, faster. If you're willing to feed upon your fallen foes, it can further sustain and lengthen your beast form. You can revert before the hunger dwindles completely if you desire." He explained. I nodded. I felt now was not the time to overthink. Every day, the Silver Hand were becoming more active and wider spread. I also heard rumors of possessing heightened senses and faster reflexes. But if there is anything I learned from my time in Skyrim, if it's a rumor or legend, it was or still is true. I knew if I partook in this, my spirit would be bound to Hircene. I've heard fables of his plane of Oblivion, the Hunting grounds, and the exhilarating sport it provided. As Farkas once told me, 'Eyes on the prey, not the horizon.' I saw Skjor walk over to Aela and slowly cut open hear arm. Her blood began to leak into the bowl until her scar began to heal itself at an exceptional rate. I peered into the bowl, seeing my own reflection. The beast blood smelled of…wine. A really pungent, and addicting wine. It tickled my nostrils as I dipped my hand in the thick liquid and drank. Within moments, I could feel my own bones feeling rearranged. No words could describe the pain I went through in my first transformation, as the hair on my skin began to spread, and my nails morphed into razor sharp claws. As soon as I regained my senses, I saw that was on the outside of the Underforge. I gazed upon my hands and feet in all their lupine abnormality, still shaking from the conversion. As I made my way towards the front doors of Jorrvaskr for help, I caught a strong scent of mead and goat cheese. A Whiterun guard to my left coming down the stairs from Dragonsreach spotted me. "Werewolf! To arms! To arms!" He shouted. Like any cornered predator, I felt the urge to attack him before he could attack me. My heart was beating like a Cliff Racer, but I resisted. I wasn't exactly myself, but I hadn't fully lost myself either. Within the incantations of my consciousness, I was walking a razor thin line between predator and prey. It was already too late to silence witnesses, as the call of the guard would've forewarned others nearby, like a wolf alerting to gather his pack for the kill. Breath and focus. Run. With swift haste, I sprinted my way towards the entrance of Whiterun. I had to get out before my presence ensued further mayhem. I could've sworn I saw Lydia's horrified look as I passed by the Marketplace District. As soon as I leapt over the walls with my brute strength, I had begun to pass out. I felt starved and exhausted.

The next thing I felt was the cold snow, falling upon my skin. Next, a familiar scent overcame my nostrils. I was amazed at how enhanced my senses had become upon gaining the beast blood. I opened my eyes and stood up, still clothed in my Treasure Hunter's Garb. "Are you awake Don? I was starting to think you might never come back." A familiar voice said. I looked up to see Aela watching over me.

"What just…happened? Am I a werewolf now?" I asked. I wasn't sure if what I remember was real or a hallucination.

"Indeed. Yours was not an easy transformation. But you're still alive. I'm impressed." She said.

"Where are we?"

"Near an old fort named Gallows Rock. The Silver Hand have it occupied. Skjor's already scouting ahead, and we're going to follow."

"How many are there?"

"Only one way to find out." She said. "Time for the hunters to become the hunted." He drew her dagger and snuck up upon the entrance. We made short work of the guards, who seemed to have amateur training compared to the likes of us, as were most of the individuals who dared to raise a blade at us. The most dangerous part of our excursion was someone named Krev the Skinner, a former mercenary turned werewolf hunter who was infamous for skinning his victims, even in public. With the strength of my Thu'um and Aela's unmatched skills as a hunter, we defeated him. But much to our grief, Skjor was already dead; skinned by Krev. It was a sight that made my stomach roil. Aela could tell it was him by the smell. I felt mournful of his death and I swore I saw Aela weep at the sight of his beastly corpse. She pleaded me to avenge his death.

Every Silver Hand outpost I visited, I made sure Skjor's death was repaid in blood, along with all the former Companions who fell victim to them. Whenever I felt outnumbered or outmatched, I spared no hesitation in summoning my beast form. I felt the call of the wild ringing within the depths of my soul, beckoning me to hunt my victims and feed upon their fallen corpses in a swift sport of savagery. Each transformation felt less agonizing than the last. Sometimes I would even howl during the night, when the moons of Secunda and Masser shined in all their nocturnal splendor. Along the way, I was assigned retrieved the fragments of Wuuthraad, the fabled axe which Ysgramor himself carried in his conquest of Skyrim from the ancient northern land of Atmora. My assumptions were that they were doing this to further spite the Companions, but I would come to learn that the Silver Hand weren't as solely dubious as they seemed. It wasn't long before Kodlak caught wind of the underhanded labor Aela and I were doing, and asked to speak to me personally. And trust me, when it came to pep talks, Kodlak was as sturdy as a brick wall.

I took a seat next to him at the end of the hall where the living quarters were. Just across from us was his room. I often wondered what a Harbinger like himself kept in there. But I had to focus on what he was about to tell me. "I understand that you and Aela have been keeping quite busy, Dragonborn." He said. I've heard from Farkas that it would do no good to lie to Kodlak. He was old, but he sure as Aetherius wasn't senile.

"Aela and I work to avenge Skjor's death by putting an end to the Silver Hand which has plagued the Companions." I reply.

"Your hearts are full of grief, and my own weeps at the loss of Skjor." Kodlak sighed. "But his death was avenged long ago. You have taken more lives than honor demanded. The cycle of retaliation may continue for some time."

"Avenged long ago?" I paused. I never heard of such logic or wisdom in my time as a warrior, or as a bandit. I looked town and contemplated exactly what he meant by that. Before I became lost in thought, he said. "Have you heard of how the Companions became werewolves?"

"Vilkas said it was a curse. Skjor said it was a blessing." I replied.

"They both have a nugget of truth, but the truth is more complicated than that. It always has been." He said.

"I'm listening."

"The Companions are nearly five thousand years old. This matter of beast blood has only troubled us for a few hundred. One of my predecessors was a good, but short-sighted man. During the Oblivion Crisis, the Companion's numbers had dwindled dramatically, and we were starting to become overrun by the Daedra. In order to match their strength, my predecessor made a bargain with the witches of Glenmoril Coven. They claimed that if the Companions would hunt in the name of their Lord, Hircine, we would be granted great power." He explained. Truth be told I was starting to feel nervous. Skjor already explained the basic metamorphosis of the beast blood, but I was starting to ponder other consequences of my actions. I gulped, nervous about the drawbacks that I'd have to endure as a werewolf. "So…what then?" I managed to say.

"The witches offered payment, like anyone else. But they deceived us, as they neglected to mention the change would be permanent." He replied.

"Is that why The Silver Hand hunt us down? Do they slaughter our shield-brethren as penance for the misguided acts of our predecessors?"

"I understand why you'd assume that. But the motives of the Silver Hand run deeper."

"What do you mean?"

"While I was tracking your progress with Aela, I made a discovery. It is quite possible that The Silver Hand were once a part of the Companions long ago."

"And how could that be possible? They are our sworn enemy."

"Why else would they go to such a length as to steal the fragments of Wuuthrad?" He asked. My lips fell silent as he continued to elaborate. "They are certain that ever since the beast blood was introduced, we've become a disgrace to Ysgramor. They believe that they are the true heirs of the Companions."

"If what you say is true about the Silver Hand, why it matter if we are werewolves or not?"

"Because they view us as unworthy to be considered Ysgramor's sons. But that's what I like about you Don. There are not many warriors who are open minded as you. But there is still another issue that needs to be addressed."

"What might that be?"

"This disease, lycanthropy, affects not just our bodies. It seeps into the spirit. Upon death, werewolves are claimed by Hircine for his Hunting Grounds. For some, this is a paradise. They want nothing more than to chase prey with their master for eternity. That is their choice. But I am still a true Nord, and I wish for Sovngarde as my spirit home."

"And you believe there is a cure?"

"That's what I've spent my twilight years trying to find out. And I believe I've found the answer. Your task will be to seek them out. Go to their coven in Falkreath. Strike them down as a true warrior of the wild. The witches' magic ensnared us, and only their magic can release us. They won't give it willingly, but we can extract their foul powers by force. Once you've killed them, fill this pouch with their blood. From there, we may begin to undo centuries of impurity." He said before he handed me a crimson flask, made in leather, decorated with Nordic carvings.

"It shall be done." I obeyed, placing the flask upon my belt.

"Move quickly. Talos guide you Dragonborn."

"Azura preserve you." I replied before I started to make my way towards the cavern. Falkreath was denser in vegetation than the rest of Skyrim, which meant there was a likelier chance of me running into some trouble. On the way, a hunter named Valdr asked for assistance. He told me that he and his fellow hunters were tracking some bear which led them to a cave, which unfortunately was housed to a couple of spriggans. After curing his wound with a health potion, I utilized what I've been taught by Aela to analyze my surroundings. Thanks to my newfound werewolf senses, I was able to outline the spriggans camouflaged within the trees faster than Valdr. I faced them in close combat while he provided assistance with his bow. After that, we became better acquainted. It took me effort to convince him to aid me in slaying the Glenmoril Witches, but after calling him my shield brother, he seemed to be flattered, and agreed. The den was dark and damp, so I had to summon a candlelight spell, which I learned from Farengar. We planned every move before we attacked. Our ordeal against the witches was precarious, and we had a few close calls, one which involved fighting a juvenile Frostbite Spider. Using their tools, I had drawn enough of their blood to fill the canteen. Afterwards, I bid Valdr farewell in Falkreath before heading back out towards Whiterun.

As soon as I saw four Companions guarding the stairs leading up to Jorrvaskr, I could easily tell that something was afoot. I then noticed two dead guards laying on the steps. I hastened towards the ancient mead hall and shoved open the door. "Don, where have you been?" Vilkas asked as he stood up.

"Doing Kodlak's bidding. What happened here?" I asked, noticing a body laying behind him. My heart dropped when I discovered that it was Kodlak's body. He was dead. I slumped to the floor, feeling I had arrived too late to fulfill his final wish. Alongside his corpse were Njada Stonearm and Farkas kneeling as well. "Who could've done this?"

"The Silver Hand." Vilkas said. "They finally gained enough courage to intrude onto Whiterun and storm the mead hall. Worse still, they've stolen all the fragments of Wuuthrad when they made their retreat."

"Then we mustn't dally." I replied, swiftly standing up to face Vilkas. "We need to track them down and get those shards back, for the glory and preservation of the Companions."

"And so we shall. Aela has located where they're stationed at in the Pale." Vilkas said as he grabbed his helmet. "Since the matter is urgent, I've decided to purchase you a horse from Whiterun Stables with my earnings."

"I appreciate the gesture shield-brother, but I cannot remember the last time I've ridden one." I reply.

"Well, now's the time to learn." He said as he swung open the door. I followed him close behind as we made our way down towards the Market District, out the gates, and towards the stables. There were two horses. Vilkas directed me towards one which had a chestnut color on its fur. "Her name is Alfsigr." He said. I stepped forth towards Alfsigr, only for the horse to whinny and step back. Knowing horses were usually distrustful of newcomers, I reminded myself to be patient. Vilkas tried to bring Alfsigr closer to me, only for the horse to resist further. "Vilkas, step back." I said.

"What are you going to do?" He asked.

"Gain its trust." I replied before I took a deep inhale. Breath and focus. As I exhaled, I performed the first word of a new shout I learned at Shroud Hearth Barrow not too long ago. It was a method to calm animals. "Kaan." I whispered, my thu'um echoing through the air. As soon as I projected my voice, the horse seemed to calm itself immediately. I stepped towards her and pat her nostril.

"You never cease to amaze Dragonborn." Vilkas replied he demonstrated how to mount one. Following his example, I seemed to get the hang of it rather well.

"Let's show The Silver Hand they messed with the wrong pack." I said before we rode north towards their lair.

We neared an abandoned Nordic fort known on the map as Driftshade Refuge, located southeast of the city of Dawnstar. I used the hunting bow Aela gave me a while ago to take out one guard stationed on top the roof before Vilkas charged at the two other guards stationed at the front gate. As we made our way into the fort, we realized the door to the main chamber was closed. We had to go the long way around. It didn't take long for me so summon my werewolf form. I caught scent of another werewolf further down the dungeon, locked in a cell. I figured our moon brother could help us. I motioned my arm to ask Vilkas to unlock the cage, which surprised me as I never thought I could imitate human gestures. As soon as the fellow werewolf was released however, he knocked Vilkas down. I could immediately tell he was hungry, so I restrained him and revealed my teeth in a display of dominance. It didn't take long for the fellow werewolf to yield. From that moment he joined us in our pursuit of the fragments of Wuuthrad. Once we reached the kitchen, he reverted back to his human form and began to devour to his heart's content. It was a fellow Nord who was from Dawnstar. Before we reached the end, I reverted back to my normal form as well. We faced the leader of the Silver hand and her lieutenants, who put up a fearsome fight. Afterwards, we took the fragments of Wuuthrad with us back to Jorrvaskr, the Nord headed back to Dawnstar.

The sun had begun to descend as we arrived at the Skyforge to attend the funeral of Kodlak, whose body lay on a decorous funeral pyre over the smoldering coals of the forge. I was surprised to find the number of people present, including the esteemed Jarl Balgruff himself. "Who will start?" Eorlund replied as he held the torch.

"I'll do it." Aela replied, a hint of grief in her voice. It must've been hard for her, first losing Skjor now Kodlak. She grabbed the torch and walked up to the pyre. "Before the ancient flame…"

"We grieve." The crowd said.

"At his loss…"

"We weep."

"For the fallen…"

"We shout."

"And for ourselves…"

"We take our leave." Aela placed the torch upon the pyre, letting it catch aflame. "His spirit is departed. Members of the Circle, let us withdraw to the Underforge, to grieve our last together." She replied. I was about to join them until Eorlund asked me to complete a task; to retrieve the last fragment of Wuuthrad from Kodlak's room. Normally it is forbidden to intrude, but in this instance, I was given the exception, and the key from Eorlund. Upon entering Kodlak's room, I opened the drawer to retrieve the last fragment. It was then my eyes caught something resting underneath it; Kodlak's journal. I sat down upon the bed and read through it. What really stood out to me was the following, "Don K'hotei shows valor, even in this more underhanded time. We have not had cause to speak much, and that is something I deeply regret. I have high hopes for his destiny, as I realized that his appearance in my dream may indeed mark his as the Harbinger to succeed me.

I have received few dreams over the course of my life, but when they come, I have learned to trust them. I have also learned to trust the instincts of my heart, which tells me that Adonis K'hotei can carry the Companions legacy as truly as any residing in Jorrvaskr, especially with the loss of Skjor. Aela is too solitary, Vilkas too fiery, and Farkas too kind-hearted. Out of all of them, Don K'hotei stands as a true warrior who can keep a still mind amidst these burning hearts." As soon as I completed reading this, I began to weep. My heart ached heavier for his loss, but I also felt truly humbled that he would think of me as such a natural born leader. I realized that I also needed to be the leader of my own life in order to avoid straying back to the life of a bandit. I brought the fragment to Eorlund before joining the Circle in the Underforge to discuss the situation.

"The old man had one wish before he died. And he didn't get it. It's as simple as that." Vilkas said.

"Being moon-born is not so much of a curse as you might think, Vilkas." Aela said in attempts to convince him.

"That's fine for you. But he wanted to be clean. He wanted to meet Ysgramor and know the glories of Sovngarde. But all that was taken from him."

"And you avenged him."

"Kodlak wasn't one to be attentive to vengeance." Farkas intervined.

"No, Farkas, he didn't. And that's not what this is about. We should be honoring Kodlak, no matter our own thoughts on the blood." Vilkas said.

"Agreed. While we are entitled to our own lifestyle, I believe it would be best if we respect Kodlak's own." I said.

You're right. I suppose it is what he wanted, and he deserved to have it." Aela said.

"Kodlak used to speak of a way to cleanse his soul, even in death. You know the legends of the Tomb of Ysgramor Don?" Vilkas asked.

"I'm afraid I haven't. Care to enlighten me?" I asked.

"There the souls of Harbingers will heed the call of northern steel. We can't even enter the tomb without Wuuthrad, and it's in pieces, like it has been for a thousand years." Aela said just as we heard the stone door behind us slide open to reveal Eorlund, with a weapon on his back which seemed to be none other than Wuuthrad.

"And dragons were just stories. And the elves once ruled Skyrim. Just because something is, doesn't mean it must be. The blade is a weapon; a tool. Tools are meant to be broken and repaired." The esteemed blacksmith said.

"Is that what I think it is? Could you have repaired it?" Vilkas asked, glancing at the weapon.

"Thanks to our Shield-Brother here, this is the first time I've had all the fragments. The flames of a hero can reforge the shattered. The flames of Kodlak fueled the rebirth of Wuuthrad, and shall take you to meet him once more." Eorlund said as he handed the weapon to me. "As the one who bore the fragments, I think you should be the one to carry Wuuthrad. Prepare to journey to the Tomb of Ysgramor. For Kodlak."

"For Kodlak." I replied as I bore the weapon upon my back. Since I was inexperienced with two handed weapons, I decided I might carry my Skyforge sword as well. The inner circle and I journeyed north, along the snowy landscape. The weather grew colder and colder as the day turned into night. Of all the places I would see in Skyrim, I never thought I'd see the day where I'd visit the Tomb of Ysgramor himself, leader of the five-hundred, from who all Kings of Skyrim are descended from to this day. I would be walking upon a piece of ancient history which stood the test of time. When we arrived and headed into the tomb, we seemed to come across a dead end in the first room we entered. In the center of it was a statue of Ysgramor, still remarkably preserved. "This is the resting place of Ysgramor and his most trusted generals. You should be cautious." Vilkas said.

"So…where do we go from here?" I asked.

"Return Wuuthrad to Ysgramor. It should open the way." Vilkas replied. Upon further observation, I noticed the statue of Ysgramor lacked a weapon within the grip of its stone hands. When I carefully slid the handle onto the statue, a hidden door opened on the other of the room revealing a tunnel which led further into the frost-ridden tomb. "What dangers lie ahead?" I asked.

"The original Companions; Ysgramor's finest warriors. Your presence here needn't disturb their rest, I'd wager they look forward to our arrival. You should ready for an honorable battle, as they are eager to test your strength; to prove you are worthy to walk on sacred ground." Vilkas explained.

"You're not coming along?" I asked.

"Kodlak was right. I let vengeance rule my heart. I regret nothing of what we did at Driftshade, alas I shan't go any further for my mind is fogged and my heart full of grief." He explained.

"If you insist. Let us proceed my shield-siblings." I replied as I drew my weapon and headed down the path. Along the way, we encountered the most unnerving and ferocious of specters, all clothed in the armor of ancient warriors. Each one let out a war cry; a howl from the beyond that rattled my bones as Aela, Farkas, and I defended one another from their assault. At one point, Aela was starting to run short on arrows. I suggested she borrow some from the tomb. She argued that it would be disrespectful to do so, but I digressed that putting them to good use would essentially honor the acts of our predecessors. At one point there was a room that housed Frostbite Spiders. As it turned out, I wasn't the only one who was frightened of them, but Farkas was too. He refused to go any further until I empathized with his fear by revealing my own. It didn't take long for us to work together to overcome our fear and kill the nest. After that were more of Ysgramor's specters, honor bound to test our strength.

Eventually, we made it to Ysgramor's tomb, surrounded by his guardians, and in the middle of it all, a blue flame emitting from an ancient pedestal. And standing over it, a familiar spectral figure. We approached it. "Greetings shield brother." The specter said.

"Master Kodlak. Is that you?" I asked.

"Of course. My fellow Harbingers and I have been warming ourselves here. Trying to evade Hircine."

"As far as I can tell, there's no one else here." Farkas said.

"You see only me because your heart knows only me as the Companions leader. I'd wager old Vignar could see half a dozen of my predecessors. As for me, I see all of them and they can all see you; the ones in the halls of Sovngarde, the ones trapped with me in Hircine's realm. You've all brought honor to the name of the Companions. We won't soon forget it."

"I brought the witch blood flask here to cure you, just as you asked of me." I replied, revealing the crimson vial.

"Excellent, a single drop into the Harbinger's Flame should do the trick. But be warned, for once I am cured, my specter and wolf blood shall separate. You will need to combat the fiend and banish it to Hircene's hunting grounds." Kodlak replied.

"Aela, Farkas, prepare yourselves." I said before I popped open the cork of the flask and slowly dribbled a drop onto the flame. In an instant, Kodlak trembled before my eyes, and much to my disbelief, the apparition of a wolf virtually tore itself out of his spectral complexion and sprang towards us in animalistic fury. Even Aela with all her evasive tactics was stunned by the sheer speed and agility of the spectral lupine. Using my intellect, I suggested Farkas act as a target being the heaviest, while Aela would take advantage of the diversion. In the meantime, I was using my spells and swords to cripple it while acting as a secondary distraction. It didn't take long for our teamwork to overcome the fiend, and banish it. I complimented both of my shield-siblings before turning my attention to Kodlak. "The deed is done master."

"And so slain is the beast inside of me. I thank you for this gift. Alas, the other Harbingers remain trapped by Hircine. Perhaps one day, the heroes of old can join me from Sovngarde in a grand rescue. The Harrowing of the Hunting Grounds; it would be a battle of such triumph. And perhaps on that day, you'll join us in that battle. But for today, return to Jorrvaskr; revel in your victory; and lead the Companions to further glory." He said before fading away to the underworld of the Nords. I sighed, as I would greatly miss his wisdom and guidance, but felt relieved knowing he was finally at peace; a bittersweet emotion that washed over me.

"Did I hear right? Did he say you were to lead the Companions?" Farkas asked me.

"Indeed he did. Does this surprise you?" I questioned.

"On the contrary, I believe you've earned the right, Dragonborn." Aela replied. "Your valor and perseverance have proven yourself a natural born leader. And it's my honor to be the first to address you as Harbinger."

"Thank you Aela. Let us return to Jorrvaskr, and celebrate this triumph with a feast." I responded as we headed up a spiral staircase which turned out to be a shortcut back into the main entryway of the tomb. Just as we were about to exit, I could faintly feel within my boundaries of my soul, the presence of the Thu'um echoing to me from without. I traced it out another exit which led to another flight of stairs located outside the tomb. I could feel the voice becoming stronger. No sooner did my fellow Companions and I come across a word wall at the top of the islet. There, I absorbed the word and learned a new definition; "Raan", which meant, "Animal" in Dovahzul. After that, we journeyed the long trek back to Whiterun.

I went to sleep with a belly full of Horker Stew that night at Jorrvaskr, and farfetched as it may be, I; a Dunmer dreamt of Sovngarde that night. I could recall standing atop a hill covered in majestic florae, next to a fragmented word wall which had become so eroded, its runes had become completely illegible. Surrounding me was a thick fog, though I could effortlessly notice that there was something very wrong with this picture. This particular fog felt ensnaring, as if it wanted to trap me for some malevolent tenacity. Suddenly, the shadow of a dragon flew overhead. I acted to draw my weapon, only to realize too late that my weapons were gone. I was completely defenseless. It was then I heard a thunderous roar from above, unlike any I had heard before, except I was shaken to realize this roar sounded startlingly familiar. At the flap of a pair of colossal wings I snapped my head in all directions attempting to figure out where the sound was coming from. It was no use. Before I knew it, the dragon; tinted as its own horrible shadow descended viciously upon me with scythe-like scales and red demon eyes. I woke from my nightmare just as its jaws were about to swallow me whole. Since then, I begun to have nightmares of the dreaded black beast.