Author's Note: I'm doing my platinum run of Skyrim (I usually play heavily modded) and while I was doing Neloth's "fetch me a Briarheart" quest Nahagliiv attacked me and a named dragon so close to a Briarheart empowerment ritual (it was one of the locations where you find the hags doing the ritual) sent my mind whirling. Similar to Secret Fire all the hundreds of possible crises you can effect in Skyrim's game will not simultaneously be happening and will instead happen over an extended period of time. Some before and some far after the traditional start of the game.

For the purposes of this chapter all spoken language is in the Atmoran language.

Chapter 1: Nah-Ag-Liiv

I awoke rather confused about how I was awaking anywhere.

The burning in my chest did nothing to assuage my worries, perhaps the Dovahkiin had somehow spared me planning to dominate me with his Thuum?

I was the burning fury that withers away all opposition, the arrogance to think that I would bow before death!

Urk, speaking of burning...I brought a hand up to my chest and, wait hand?

Finally I opened my eyes and looked down, at the body of a man. With a gaping bleeding hole in his chest where it appears one of those disgusting crones had replaced his heart with a Briar Heart.

Filthy Daedric magic. But also, I reflected with the advanced mind of a Dovah, likely a ritual that had saved my eternal soul from the Dovahkiin.

Hmm, I opened my mystical senses up to search out the nature of the magic upon this body. Reinforcement of health, stamina, ah and even Magicka, but not what I was searching for.

I needed to see deeper, and for that I would need my Thuum.

I swung my disgusting mortal legs off of the altar the body lay upon and

"Yah Lah Fiik!" Seek, Magicka, Mirror. To seek the magic within oneself. My new throat burned with the power of the Thuum however and I coughed up blood. I would not be tossing my Voice around carelessly in this body it seemed. However I could now see and sense the magicka at work within my body.

Ah yes, there it was, broken now as the hagraven whom had begun the ritual was dead. Either at my flames or the Dovahkiin's axe I knew not.

A magical control mechanism to bind the will of the warrior to the crone. So powerful and complete that they would act like no better than a raging beast on a leash. Loss of all mental faculties beyond the focusing of a berserker rage.

Well I was in some manner of speaking, alive. A better prospect than I had had when the Dovahkiin struck me from the sky with the abominable Dragonrend shout. How that filthy Atmoran had learned such I could not know. I had been under impression from Alduin that it had been millennia since our passing and the Dovahkiin had shown no aptitude for it in his previous battles.

He had laughed when we briefly spoke upon my resurrection, said that this final Dragonborn would be no trouble for any of our more powerful brethren, such as myself. Being struck from the sky and then falling to an onslaught of frost spells and an axe to the neck spoke differently of course.

But here I was, trapped within putrid mortal flesh, but alive for now.

I could work with this, mine was the fury that burns and withers, but fury can be focused, and I would build power within this new body and have my Nahkriin, my vengeance.

The cave system I was in appeared to be some collapsed ruins, almost ironic, the ruins seemed decrepit and centuries old, and yet they were in some style that had come about likely an entire era after my original passing.

Examining the area I found the corpses of a hagraven and one of these savages. Both scorched but not to the point where they would have had an immediate death.

Hmm...yes, looking around it appeared they had attempted to barricade an entrance to this area from the Dovahkiin as they fled the collateral damage of our battle. I had actually been making strafing passes of the camp with my fire breath before the Dovahkiin took me by surprise.

My goal had been to terrorize and subjugate the surrounding area and then move on to take a nearby village under my domination, but quite obviously that disgusting Atmoran had ruined that.

I decided scavenging the area for what I could would be my best bet.

I was...tentatively surprised in a pleasant way by what I found.

The bone and hide armor of the savages was only slightly better than nothing, but I would have to make do.

The real treasure was an old but not as ancient as I Atmoran-styled blade which was obviously enchanted for at least durability. It had some mannish runes scribed upon it.

And upon the finger of the hagraven was a golden three-banded ring with two emeralds set within, it significantly boosted my magical power upon wearing it.

"Fascinating what these mortals do with magicka," I commented to myself as I scavenged up a hide satchel and some soul gems the hagraven must have kept around.

"The Dragon Priests always were useful for creating trinkets such as these," I paused to think to myself.

"Ah, yes, there is an idea. These savages are somewhat similar to our thralls before we took them under wing. Perhaps I could...it may even be simpler with this mortal body to subjugate such a scattered and uncivilized people. I need to find a way to use mortal magics before I proceed on that end, without full access to my Thuum I am crippled," I took a few practice swings with the blade I had found and grimaced. And also perhaps figure out how to use this body in combat.

I am the burning, withering fury. And this land would bend to my wrath. And then so too would the Dovahkiin.

"Ha!" I burst out a laugh, perhaps the Dovahkiin would actually defeat Alduin. In a way I somewhat hoped he would. Trapped in this mortal body I would not be surviving any world eating that may occur.

And would that not make vengeance all the sweeter? To slay the Dovahkiin and steal all his power just after his very moment of triumph? Stealing the sweet taste of victory from his lips?

This land would bow before Nahagliiv. The fury which burns and withers away opposition.