Their return to the dragon's territory was - mercifully - only two days of walking, as the weather had been kind enough to relent its endless barrage of snow and ice.

They had plenty of time to converse while trekking. While Rohah was endlessly fascinated with Norvosh's upbringing and life in the stronghold, Norvosh preferred stories of Rohah's research and discoveries. He liked hearing, for instance, how Rohah had once tried cultivating a Telvanni mushroom from a Morrowind sample. The experiment culminated in a sad little fungus that might have housed a squirrel. The orc laughed while Rohah pretended to be grouchy.

They were having one such conversation on the second day of their departure. Norvosh was explaining to Rohah how the hierarchy was ordered in a stronghold.

"We have our chiefs, our shamans, our blacksmiths and hunters," he said. "Those are our main occupations. Most others will mine."

"I've heard your chieftains are the only ones allowed wives and children," Rohah said. "How does that work?"

Norvosh snorted. "Malacath's toenails, Cyrod! That's a myth to paint us as inbred barbarians. Chiefs are the only ones allowed to be polygamous, true, but no chief is going to stop their people from… er, procreating."

"Malacath's toenails?" Rohah said, amused.

"And his hairy pits, too. You got a problem with that?" Norvosh's tone was light and teasing.

"Not at all," Rohah said, grinning now. She opened her mouth for another quip, but the air had left her. She paled.

The dark shadow of a dragon was high above them, circling. Norvosh took notice of Rohah's expression and looked up, yelping.

"Well, we found him," the orc said.

"Malacath's toenails," Rohah said weakly, as the dragon began to descend. They were out in the open in a snowy tundra - there was nowhere to run.

"And hairy pits," Norvosh agreed.

There was no time to prepare. Norvosh didn't even bother reaching for his weapon, which Rohah supposed either meant he hoped the dragon was friendly, or believed there was no chance of survival. Perhaps both.

The dragon landed, shaking the ground. In the sunlight, its scales now clearly glimmered green-gold. It had four legs and a sabre-cat-like body, lithe and muscular. It raised its head, expression unknowable behind its reptilian features. They were caught in its yellow gaze.

Adrenaline was pumping through Rohah, making her limbs shake. She struggled to recall any Dovahzul she knew, having studied the subject in Cyrodiil, but could not in the heat of the moment. Instead, she settled with a "Hello!" that squeaked out of her.

"My name is Rohah," she said, managing a jerky wave. "And this is Norvosh." The orc stood quite still, mute as a statue, contrasting with Rohah, who was trembling so badly she felt she might dissolve into a puddle of nope-I'm-out.

"Zu'u Zokoraav," the dragon said, eyes slits. "I am Zokoraav. Krosis. Apologies. It is not in my nature to interfere. Vos koros lein. I made a mistake showing myself to you five days prior. Niid trun. No matter. Time allows for one's mistakes. The dov are uniquely aware of this. It is impossible to ruin a thread of time, for the ruination was always intended to occur. You joorre - mortals - refer to this as inevitability."

Rohah barely followed along, taken off guard by the dragon's polite tone. "So… you showed yourself to me… why? To comply with inevitability, the fact you were always going to do that?" Now that the dragon was talking philosophy and not eating them, Rohah felt more comfortable. This was something she could do.

"Yes and no," Zokoraav said. "It would always have happened, yes. But why I showed myself to you was, at the time, I was using specific reasoning."

"The reason being?"

"You stink of the kelle," the dragon snarled, pacing. "The Elder Scrolls. They are imbued in your very being. I can taste their presence. They are not here physically, but they mark you. Baarkei. Obvious to a dov."

Rohah's mind went blank. "The Elder Scrolls - like the ones in Cyrodiil? I've never even been near one."

"Meyus joorre. Foolish mortal. Tiid - time - is rarely linear. It will come to pass. Inevitability is not a threat, but an assurance."

"But," Rohah said, tilting her head, "if I died here and now, I would never come to even touch an Elder Scroll. So how is it you can smell them on me from the future while I'm capable of avoiding the event?"

The dragon chuckled. "Would you doom this timeline to win a debate? All tiid-kenlokke, time-loops, must be answered to. Reality is not kind to those that harm the dov. A timeline, a tiidtrin, these are what make up our universe, our kalpa. Doom a timeline, and the offshoot withers. Destruction on such a massive scale, caused by something so preventable - do you have the right, joor? The dov do not think so, and neither does the fabric of creation itself. You would only cause problems, and in the end, all loose ends will be tidied - despite your efforts."

Now Rohah was getting quite lost, the dragon having led her in loops, timely or otherwise. "Wait. Harming the dov - are you talking about Dragon Breaks?"

"Do you view a dented sword as broken? Is a bruise a mortal wound? No. There have been many doomed timelines that ultimately correct themselves without the chaos of the Dawn Era. How many iterations of yourself do you believe exist? More than you might imagine. But it is the you here, now, that we are concerned with. The Maag, the alpha version, if you prefer." Zokoraav was sitting now, catlike paws overlapping each other. Rohah remained standing, not wanting to be lower than eye level.

"I think I understand what you mean," Rohah said. "What exactly does a doomed timeline entail?"

The dragon's snout wrinkled into a snarl, but Rohah now believed this particular expression to be more frustration than anger. "Even the dov cannot see past time's end. We understand a doomed timeline to be a... twisted version of our reality. A version in which events conspire that the kalpa cannot be reborn."

"Wait," Rohah said, suddenly alarmed. "I'm just a scholar. Plenty of people have handled Elder Scrolls before. It's entirely possible I might take a look at one in the future. But it sounds like you're saying my failing to do this would result in - well, the end of the world! I'm just one person!"

"You do not understand your role," Zokoraav said, getting up to pace again. The uncoiling of his body held a kind of feral beauty. "The kelle are a part of you, a part of your very identity. This is different from a simple monk's reading."

"But my identity now doesn't have any Elder - "

"Linearity is not important," the dragon growled, and Rohah fell silent, afraid of offending Zokoraav. "Is your identity in the future any less important than your identity now?"

"No," Rohah said. "But one has more immediacy to me."

"Paaz. A fair answer. Very well. It is not my place to challenge your fiilos - your philosophy. The dov have a weakness for such debate. Your friend is silent. Does he have nothing to contribute?" The dragon's eyes flicked to Norvosh, who looked just as still as before.

"Nothing," the orc confirmed. "Only, I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's all right with you."

"I will try to answer them."

Norvosh cleared his throat, and when he spoke, it sounded like he'd rehearsed the question. "What do you know of the dragon who ruled Valthume during the time of the Dragon Cults?"

A low, bassy rumble filled the air - the dragon humming as he thought. "His name was Gaasgelah, and his Priest was Hevnoraak. I never spoke to them directly. From what I understand of his fiilos, he was the closest thing to an anarchist you could find in a dov. Why do you ask, Ogiim? He is long since dead. Aal qethhe praan."

"I believe I am descended from members of his cult," Norvosh said.

"Are you, then? Perhaps you will find answers in the ruins themselves. The dov prefer their records etched in stone. Deykraan agge. Paper is easily burned." Zokoraav chuckled, a throaty noise that shot smoke out of his nostrils. "You said you had other questions?"

"Yes," Norvosh said cautiously. "Do you mind telling us how you've evaded death or capture for so long? There were no records of you in Winterhold. We don't plan on telling anyone, but it's strange to us."

The dragon bared his teeth, and Rohah interpreted this as smugness. "It was not intentional. I have a fiilos, and I follow it. Vos koros lein. Allow things to happen. I do not interfere. I am watchful - zu'u Zokoraav. I did not mean for you to see me. Tiid bo amativ. Time flows ever onward. A misstroke in a painting can be beautiful when all is said and done. I am not regretful of my actions. Perhaps my time in hiding was meant to lead to this moment? Only the Maag Tiidtrin, the Alpha Timeline, knows for certain."

The dragon's evasive language was starting to give Rohah a headache, as interested as she was. "So you've been just a spectator for the past few eras? From what I've read, dragons have a natural instinct to seize power. Er - no offense intended, of course."

"Vahzah. True. Dov wahlaan fah rel. Dragons were created for domination. I have struggled with my nature in the past. It is in our blood... But the dov are gone. Pahkriivah. Our age has passed. Drem ko kos. I find peace in who I am. It is enough for me." Zokoraav paused to stretch. "There is little else to say."

"Thank you for talking to us," she said, taking the hint, but answering with a genuine smile. "It's not often we - er - joorre get to converse with a dov."

"I appreciate it as well," Zokoraav said. "I am predisposed to solitude, but a good conversation is always welcome."

"And thank you for the information," Norvosh added. "I was at a dead end."

"Valokein," Zokoraav said, his tone changing to one of dismissal. "Good luck on your journey. Vonok - goodbye." The dragon drew himself up, stretching his wings. He turned and leapt into the air, beating them with wind as he took flight. They both watched him leave, not speaking until he was a speck in the sky.

"Well," Rohah said, still slightly in shock. "You've got a solid lead now. To Valthume, then?"

The orc looked thoughtful. "Yes, of course… but I wonder what he meant by you being 'marked with' Elder Scrolls? Is that even possible?"

"Gods know," Rohah sighed. "We should write all of that down so we don't forget."

"Right," Norvosh agreed, hastily digging through his pack for something to write on, and scribbled on a spare bit of parchment. "Does this look good?"

Rohah read it quickly.

Dragon ruler - Gaasgelah, anarchist. Priest - Hevnoraak. Rohah imbued with ES? Doomed timelines prevent kalpa rebirth. Many versions of ourselves.

"I approve," she said, handing it back to Norvosh. "Looks about like what I had to study back in Cyrodiil."

The orc laughed, but quickly grew serious. "Are we going to tell anyone about him?"

"No," Rohah said, frowning. "He trusted us to not tell. And he didn't mean any harm." Rohah was relieved the orc accepted this answer.

"To Valthume, then," Norvosh said. "It's in the Reach. We'll need horses."

"I have money," Rohah said. "If we return to Winterhold afterward to sell them back, we won't lose as much."

Norvosh was quick to agree. He seemed excited Rohah was still interested in accompanying him. For her part, the Imperial was excited that they would be able to explore a genuine Nordic ruin - one that doubled as a former hub for Dragon Cultists, no less!

What could go wrong?

They returned to Winterhold without further ado, and Rohah spent the rest of her money on two horses. Rohah had very little experience with the beasts, but she knew enough to ride, and Norvosh promised he'd teach her the rest. They purchased extra rations and a map and were soon on their way. According to the orc, it would be a month-long trip.

"We're here," Norvosh said, pointing at Winterhold on the map. He traced his finger down south. "We want to take this path, down past the Shrine of Azura, around the mountain, and down… We'll stop in Whiterun for supplies, pass through Falkreath, and arrive in Valthume. Once we're close, I'll know the land better."

The weather was harsh as they travelled southward. Biting wind kept them constantly shivering, despite their warm fur clothing. Snow, mist, and clouds worked in unison to blot out the sun. Rohah felt as if the huge expanse of tundra would never end. Mountainous terrain jutted from the ground in all directions.

The two passed the Shrine of Azura just as Norvosh had said they would. The enormous statue of the goddess stood out starkly against the muted sky. She had plainly been placed high on the mountain to be seen for miles around. Azura was known for her vanity, after all.

"When we come back, do you think we could visit it?" Rohah asked the orc, marvelling at the stonework, even from this distance.

"Maybe," he replied. "It would be a hard trek up that mountain. And just between you and me, I don't know if our horses are up for that."

Rohah snorted. It was true - she did not have much money left over from her parents, so they had gotten the slowest and shoddiest of horses, old ones that tired quickly. At least they were doing the job. Norvosh had been kind enough to consider the purchase of the horses as his payment for the sellsword work. They really couldn't be ungrateful, anyway - Rohah did not like the idea of travelling the whole way there on foot.

There was plenty of wildlife along the way. To Rohah's relief, none of the animals bothered them. Packs of wolves travelled together, and watched them carefully, but did not attack. Sabre cats lounged alone. They saw bears in the distance, but steered clear of them.

"The wolves would be the biggest threat," Norvosh commented. "Bears and cats can be ignored, but a desperate enough pack could target us. We'd win, but it'd spook the horses."

"I'm more afraid of bandits and robbers," Rohah admitted. "I haven't seen any yet, but apparently they're a big problem in Skyrim."

"You heard right," Norvosh grunted. "They're a little like wolves themselves, really. Most will avoid us, but a desperate enough group of cutthroats would attack anyone."

"I just hope we don't run into any."

Norvosh shrugged. "We'd be lucky not to. The best chance of being seriously attacked comes from choke points. Bridges, passes, forest paths. They're for the organized criminals. We can avoid them if something looks off."

Rohah pulled her fur cloak tighter around herself, shivering not so much from the cold as from the prospect of being attacked. "You're the boss."

As it so happened, they did indeed meet a group of bandits the very next day. There were four of them; three with nasty-looking steel weapons and another wearing robes. A mage, Rohah assumed. They barred their way, and the horses stamped nervously.

"This is a robbery," one of the bandits told them sternly. She lifted her axe. "Hand over your packs and we'll all be happily on our way."

Rohah's insides were shrivelling, but she tried to look defiant. Norvosh snorted.

"I'm a warrior trained in an orc stronghold," the orc said calmly, his voice uncharacteristically lucid. "And my friend here is a College-trained mage. I don't like your odds. So I will rephrase for you... move along, and you stay alive."

The two stared daggers at each other. Norvosh slowly dismounted his horse, drawing his warhammer. There was something impressive about his lone figure standing against the bandits, covered head to toe in orcish armor.

The warrior snarled, but glancing back at her companions, she thought better of a fight. All three of her friends looked petrified. The bandits might win, but they would sustain heavy losses. It would be a pyrrhic victory.

"Alright," she finally growled. "I can respect that. You can't blame us for trying."

"I sort of can," Norvosh said.

Without another word, the warrior waved her comrades away. Norvosh did not put his weapon down until they were well out of sight. He remounted and they continued trudging on.

"That was terrifying," Rohah said, finally ready to speak after the tension building in her had unknotted itself. She didn't want to talk while the bandits were there - her voice was not exactly intimidating.

"A little," Norvosh said, chuckling. "They were scared, too. No one goes into battle fearless. That group preys on the poor and defenseless. Anyone who might put up a fight, they'll leave be."

"I'm not actually a College-trained mage, though," Rohah said.

Norvosh shrugged. "I had to bluff. You're not exactly well stocked in the physical department."

"Hey!"

The orc and imperial did not run into any more trouble until they got near Whiterun. It was visible in the distance. They made to cross a bridge when a group of armed soldiers rode to them on horseback, surrounding them. Rohah assumed they were a patrol. One soldier, most likely the captain, rode in front, and blocked their way.

"Halt," the captain called. "You need to pay a tax to enter Whiterun Hold, levied by the Jarl."

"How much?" Rohah asked, twisting around to reach for her pack.

"Twenty-five for each person - so fifty septims."

She scowled. "We only have forty-four."

The captain appeared to deliberate for a moment. "Hand over the coin and you can go on ahead."

Surprised, Rohah tossed the sack to him. The captain counted out the money, then dumped it in his own pouch, giving Rohah the empty container. "Stay out of trouble."

The soldiers rode off without incident. Relieved, Rohah urged her horse alongside Norvosh.

"That was nice of them," she said. "Imagine if we were turned away."

"Those weren't soldiers," Norvosh said, laughing. "Those were the bandits and mercenaries I told you about. The real guardsmen stick closer to the Hold."

"They were robbers?"

"Why did you think they were happy with only forty-four septims?" Norvosh asked wearily.

Rohah grumbled. "But they were so well armed. They look like real soldiers."

"They probably were, at one point," Norvosh sighed. "Most likely they work under some corrupt noble who has no problem hiring goons to extort people. Don't worry too much about it - you did the right thing. We wouldn't have survived a fight, and our horses can't outrun them all."

"But now we don't have any money at all," Rohah said. "Those septims were for food."

Norvosh sighed again, sounding more tired than ever. "We'll figure something out."

It took only hours to ride to the gates of Whiterun. They stabled their horses and entered the city. She had passed Whiterun while on her way to Winterhold, but hadn't actually entered the place. It was pretty, in her opinion - the locals decorated their homes with bright colors, and the marketplace chatter was inviting. Dragonsreach stood tall, visible from every district in the city.

Rohah decided she'd have to trade in her fine clothing from Cyrodiil. She was sad to see it go, but they needed the coin. She now wore more common clothing befitting her financial status.

They had just enough to finally buy the supplies they needed. They also rented two rooms in an inn for some well-deserved sleep in an actual bed. By then the money had dried up completely.

By dawn, while most people in the city still slept, they were saddling their horses. Rohah felt bad they were pushing the poor beasts so hard, but they could not afford to wait another day - they had limited rations as it was.

In just a few day's time, they were passing through the heart of Riverwood. The town was peaceful and quiet, and Rohah thanked the Divines no bandits harassed them. A few children had run out of their homes to watch them pass, eyes large as they beheld Norvosh's finely crafted orcish armor. Rohah waved at them and smiled, wondering if they had ever actually seen an orc before.

Falkreath was their next landmark. Norvosh had grown quieter than Rohah had ever seen him. She chalked it up to nerves - they were about to find the truth of his bloodline. It would make anyone apprehensive. Rohah tried to cheer him up with jokes and songs, but while Norvosh smiled and listened along, he did not reciprocate. Riding during the day began to feel more and more like a funeral march.

When they passed Falkreath, Norvosh became a little more animated.

"I know this land better," he told Rohah, grinning. "We'll be there in no time." The orc led the horses off the path and through the wilderness. Uncharted territory. Norvosh insisted he knew where he was going, so Rohah didn't object.