I hated the waiting.

Ivar always made me wait.

Now I was atop the Throat of the World, at the Time-Wound, dragons circling about, eagerly

awaiting his return.

"Do not fret, little bird, I feel Alduin's strength waning. The Dovahkiin shall return."

Paarthurnax's voice was soothing as it carried to my ears.

I looked up at him, his wings flapping in the air. "But what if he doesn't come back? What if it's some sort of trick, or some godsforsaken Daedra intervenes?"

Paarthurnax laughed. "The Daedra have no love of Alduin, and would not dare trespass in Shor's plane. Trust me, Edara, as you trust your friend. I feel it in my very soul: Alduin is at his end."

I let out a shaky breath. "Of course, Paarthurnax. I'm just worried is all." I crossed my arms, tapping my foot.

"And with good reason," Paarthurnax landed atop the Word Wall. "My brother is no easy foe to defeat. But Alduin is ended: look!"

In an instant Ivar was transported back to the Throat of the World. He lay at the bottom of the Word Wall Paarthurnax was perched upon. But something was wrong: his chest was ripped open, a sort of glow emancipating from it.

"Ivar?" I yelled. I ran to him, kneeling by his side. Blood seeped from the wound, and he reached his hand up, wanting to clasp it with my own. He gave me a shaky smile, then coughed, and drew his face up into a frown.

"What happened? Did Alduin do this?" I asked, eyes searching his face as his dragon blood seeped into the white snow.

Ivar nodded, faintly. "We shouted him down...me and the others..."

I drew my brows together, confused. "What others?"

"...Hakon One-Eye...Gormlaith Golden-Hilt...Felldir the Old... it was a mighty battle, I wish you could have seen it." He coughed again.

"Is your chest the only wound?" I began searching for any other ailment.

"Afraid so. The wyrm clawed me... as I ran my sword... through him." Ivar was taking many short breaths between his words. He grew paler by the second. "A final gift... he said. Damn him to... Oblivion!" Ivar gasped with pain.

I placed my hands on his chest. "This might sting a bit. But you know how it works."

A faint glow came from my figertips, healing Ivar. The golden light danced around my hands and flew towards his chest, stitching back skin and mending broken bones.

Ivar sighed. "Thank you, Edara. Kynareth has blessed you with such magic." Ivar gave me a smile. Not one of his joking smiles, but a real one.

Paarthurnax began to speak. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Dovahkiin. You have vanquished Alduin, World Eater, First-born of Akatosh. All of Keizaal, all of Vus is in your debt. But I fear Alduin has cursed you with his claw. I fear you may never again see battle. There is no magic here amongst men or elves that can heal that wound. Only the Divines can."

I helped Ivar to sit up. "What do you mean?"

Ivar interjected:"She just healed me! The blood is gone, the wound reduced to a scar like all of the others." Ivar's voice was filled with worry and anger.

"Just because it is healed on the surface," Paarthurnax said, "does not mean it has healed the soul. She healed your body, geh. But it is not among her mortal power to heal the effects it has on your Zii, your soul."

Ivar lifted his sword that lay beside him. He pointed it towards Paarthurnax. "I killed Alduin, Bane of Kings. Tell me what I can do—now—or I shall kill you too." Ivar swung his sword, and as he did so he doubled over in pain, clawing at his chest, gasping for air.

Paarthurnax gave out a sigh. "You have the soul of a warrior Dovahkiin, and so Alduin has cursed you with the Kendov Sil Dur. An ancient curse unknown to man or mer, unknown to even the Daedra. A gift solely bestowed upon Alduin by Bormahu, Akatosh, in the days of yore. Only he can heal you. But Akatosh's power was drained after Oblivion opened. I fear what this may mean."

"So he can never heal? Never lift up his sword in battle? In self-defense?" I rose from Ivar's side, my brown hair moving slightly in the wind.

"Not fully, nid. I doubt he could even use magic in his defense. His Thu'um... I do not know if he could Shout ever again. Krosis!" Paarthurnax let out a Shout to the Skies, then bowed his head in sorrow.

"No... after all this time... Akatosh would not abandon me. He gave me this gift, why would he take it away?" Ivar looked up, tears streaming down his face, his blue warpaint dripping into his red beard. At that moment, a new voice appeared.

"Because, Dragonborn, you have not followed the Way of the Voice."

Master Arngeir appeared, followed by Masted Borri, Einarth, and Wulfgar.

Ivar looked at Arngeir, and rose to his feet. "Not followed the Way of the Voice? I fulfilled my destiny and aided all of Skyrim in their struggles. Solved every problem. I did as I was supposed to do." Ivar began storming towards Arngeir.

"You may have defeated Alduin, and numerous other villains, but Akatosh does not take kindly to his chosen one serving the Daedra, and stealing from the innocent." Ivar looked down at the snow covered ground, abashed. "Oh yes, Dragonborn, your exploits as Master of the Theives Guild has reached even our ears, high on the slopes of the Throat of the World. And the Daedra? Hircine, Molag Bal, Sheogorath, Mehrunes Dagon... where does it end? Your quest for power has darkened your soul, honorable as it once was. But I did not come hear to lecture you. No, we," Arngeir paused to motion to his fellow Greybeards, " came to offer you a chance at redemption. A chance to follow the teachings of Jergen Windcaller, and perhaps regain the favor of Akatosh. This may be the only way, Dragonborn."

Ivar looked conflicted. He knew that living with the Greybeards meant he would be disconnected from all of Skyrim, from his friends and from his foes. But it also meant he could be rid from Alduin's curse. A chance to be cured.

"Ivar," I went over to my friend. "You have saved Skyrim so many times. Now it is time for you to be saved." I placed my hand on his shoulder and clasped it. "You can do this."

Ivar straightened his shoulders and nodded his head. "This I will do. But I must set some things in order first."As Ivar turned to face me I removed my hand from his shoulder.

"You have gone with me on every quest, from Markarth to Riften, from Whiterun to Winterhold, from Skyrim to Solstheim. I almost had you executed at Helgen, and still you would have followed me to Sovengarde. You managed to follow me even to Apocrypha. You have healed me after every ordeal, every trial. You have stopped me from becoming an Assassin, and you have tried to keep me on a path of honor these many months. But there is still one trial we have yet to deal with: Skyrim's sons still fight amongst each other, spilling their own blood. I entrust you with putting a stop to it. You know where my heart lies on the matter. Go to Windhelm, save Skyrim. It is up to you now, Edara." Ivar placed both hands upon my shoulders, shaking me gently. He then reached into his scabbard and pulled out his sword, made from dragon bone, and held it out for me to take.

I shook my head, sighing. "I am a Healer, Ivar. And an Alchemist. I do not take lives, I save them, remember? I cannot do this. I am no warrior, I have no Voice, no Dragons to ride into battle or even allies to rally to my side. I'm sorry." I pushed his sword back into his hands. I felt awful, but what was I to do?

"Little bird," Paarthurnax spoke from his spot on the Word Wall, his voice a low rumble, commanding me to face him. "There is no choice in this matter. The Sons of Skyrim will continue to shed their own blood unless," Paarthurnax leveled his head with my own, "unless a hero is made. Not all heroes are born, little bird. Nid— heroes, oftentimes, are forged in the heat of battle against the most terrible foes. Your foe is yourself. The Dovahkiin has told me of your Mid, your loyalty, and of how you would heal him during the midst of battle, despite the threat of Dinok. You are fearless, little bird, and you are good. But perhaps you do not have to kill Skyrim's Sons to put an end to Evgir Unslaad. Perhaps all you must do is heal the rift. The enemy of Keizaal is not the Junaar, it is the Fahliil of Summerset Isle, geh?"

I looked intently at the old dragon. He had seen many ages and had travelled the passages of time. It would be wise to heed his words."So you want me to unite Keizaal? But how? The Empire would never go against the Thalmor for fear of another Great War. And Ulfric Stormcloak would never ally himself or his troops with the Imperial Legion. He wants to be High King. He feels it is his destiny."

"That is not for me to know, little bird. It is for you to find out. The fate of Skyrim is in your hands now." Paarthurnax let out another shout to the Skies and flew away, the wind whipping in his wake.

I turned to face Ivar. "Is this what you want? Truly?" The snow fell lightly from the sky, catching in his red beard, making his green eyes shine with emotions.

He sighed. "Skyrim deserves to be free. And I believe Ulfric's motives are not solely based on power. I think the Empire, too, desires to be free from the Aldmeri Dominion. Perhaps they can put aside their differences once more and work towards a common goal, and from there find a way to solve their issues. This I think, can be done. And who better than you to do it? There is none more level headed than you. And no one more good. You can thaw the heart of the Legion on this matter, and stop Ulfric's fiery passion from turning into a blaze. Please, take my sword. Even if you will not use it Edara, it will be a mighty weapon to intimidate foes into submission." Ivar waggled his bushy red eyebrows at me, forcing me to smile.

"I'll try." I took his sword from his outstretched hands. "You know Ivar, in all of our travels we have never been to Windhelm. At least, I haven't. You went to retrieve Ulfric for the peace meeting and ordered me to stay in Whiterun. Any tips?"

Ivar pondered for a moment, running his large gloved hands through his fiery beard. "There's some murderer there. I couldn't put a stop to it while I was in town, not without you being there. You are the wits to our operations, afterall. So do not, whatever you do, walk alone at night. If I lost you I don't know what I would do. The Shatter-Shields have some...relations with me. If you need anything, go to them. Now... off to Windhelm with ye, lass. Take my horse, Aggie, she's down in Ivarstead. She'll get you there safe." Ivar slapped me hard on the back. I stumbled, and sent him a glare.

"Keep out of trouble, blockhead, you're easy to kill now, remember?" I yelled, not stopping to see the glare Ivar was shooting in my direction. And thus began my descent down the Throat of the World.