Skathi's travel to the Bleak Falls Barrows was not frightening before. She was used to the idea of cleaning out a few beasts from day six of her time in the wilderness. Tombs did not scare her greatly, as the occupants were dead for at least a hundred years. But now she was scared because she was riding a horse.
Horses always scared her. Rena had offered her a ride and, not wanting to disrespect her, accepted it. In hindsight, she should have just led the horse. They were big with a mind of their own and no way of telling what they were going to do. She did not understand the appeal of these creatures. She knew they were quite beautiful creatures, but beautiful things can kill you, so she rejected the excuse.
Rena was right about the horse's ability to climb mountains. This one rose the rock and cliffs without too great an issue. Although Skathi felt more precarious while mounted than if she were just on foot, she was still impressed.
It was not long until they found a tower, ruined from age, but still used. It seemed warriors without colors were using it as a place to roost. They could not be trusted this far out, whether worshippers of the ancient Nords or a bandit outpost, they were dangerous. Still, Skathi did not feel confident to kill them.
"See them?" Rena asked, pointing at the tower's occupants, "They could only be bandits with their equipment."
Skathi looked closer with her hawk-like eyes. The warriors were in bloodstained furs and hide armor, their weapons old and worn. They almost seemed liked hunters, but there was nothing to hunt in the shadow of the crypt.
"We'll need to take them," Rena stated, dismounting, "They're not alerted to our presence, so we have a chance to take them by surprise."
The soldier took a bow and quiver full of arrows from the saddle bag and crouched down by the horse. Skathi tried to dismount gracefully but fell face first into the snow. It seemed unnoticed by the bandits.
The outsider crouched next to her companion and drew her bow. Before she could nock an arrow, she was crippled with empathy. Last time she killed, something came out and told her it was wrong. It left lacking in confidence or will to fight. It was because she knew everyone had a life, even she did once, and that loved ones would mourn their deaths. She couldn't kill when she knew it would cause pain.
"Breath," Rena said, "Just breath. In," she breathed, "and out," she breathed. "If you let yourself be afraid of everything you do, you'll never be able to do what you want or need."
Skathi saw the choice ahead of her. She could walk away with killing anyone or kill the undesirables keeping her from the Dragonstone. But just because they undesirable, does that mean they deserve death? There are those the Nords do not want in Skyrim, not just bandits. Elves, Beast Folk, Imperials. If they were not wanted here by the authorities of this land, did they equally deserve to die?
No. Those who were not born Nord did not deserved to die for that reason alone. Those who hurt and maim without reason or conscious, they deserved to meet death more than their victims. Perhaps then, she deserved to die, but that was for later.
Skathi loosed an arrow into the closest bandit. It lodged into his chest and he fell, slowly struggling to pull the missile out as the life left him. The outsider's shallow breaths evened and lengthened until her anxiety was lost in a waterfall.
As another one of the bandits found his comrade dead in the snow, Rena loosed another arrow their way. It lodged into his skull and he fell, dead. Yet another bandit, better armored than the others and wielding a shield, came from the tower ready for battle. The outsider and soldier loosed their arrows at him, but his shield took the missiles and he still stood.
Rena got up from her spot and drew her sword, setting her bow aside. She charged at the bandit and bashed his shield, him staggering back at the impact. He recovered just in time to block Rena's swing at his torso. The shield was bashed into the soldier's face, drawing blood and pushing her into snow. The bandit brought his sword down for the kill, but he stopped, Rena jamming her blade in his face, killing him instantly.
The bandit's dead body set aside, the soldier got up, covered in blood. Skathi ran up, asking, "Are you alright?"
Rena felt around her mouth. "Torn flesh, but I still have all my teeth," she stated, "And sometimes, that's all you can ask for."
The two moved into the shadow of the Barrow and saw it looming. Black stone carved into the shape of hawks' heads stared down in judgment over all in their sight. The arches seemed empty and threatening, lacking the warmth of even Winterhold's coldest weather. The entrance to the Barrow itself was carved into the mountain itself, surrounded by ancient markings. Ominous, they entered the crypt.
As the descended into the ancient burial, they found many enemies. There were many bandits that seemed to be here as mercenaries, but they stopped appearing after a while. They found a Frostbite spider, large but wounded, stood over the dead body of a Dunmer. He was carrying a golden claw on his person, which sparked a memory in Skathi's head.
But their most terrifying enemy was ahead of them. They moved into the open coffins of the tomb when one of its occupants moved. Then another. And another. They rose from their final resting places, ancient weapons and skin guided by unnaturally pale blue eyes. Neither had ever found an adversary like this undead. There were many and they seemed deathless, but they would fall when Skathi hit them with bow, fist or scavenged blade. Strange.
Eventually, they came to a sealed door with images and a claw at the center. Skathi checked the golden ornament and it had caricatures of a bear, an insect and an owl. This was like the door, though they were in differing orders. When she saw if she could reorganize them, part of the stone spun and showed a different image. She rearranged the door's caricatures until they were in the same order as the ones on the claw. It did not open, so she surmised its outline of the claw was a keyhole and use it as such. A grinding sound followed, and the way was open.
Skathi and her companion found themselves in a cave with clouded sunlight coming from great hole in the ceiling. At the center, an ebony carved sarcophagus was placed by a strange, curved wall. Even stranger was that she was drawn to the wall. She slowly walked over, and energies surrounded her, drawing her to an alien but familiar word chiseled into the stone. Her hand touched the word and the energies faded. She felt as though she had learned something, but not what.
A cracking sound burst behind her and another undead rose from the coffin, seeming greater and more powerful than the ones before. Rena stabbed it into the creature's chest, but it did not budge. Instead, a word left his mouth and she was thrown across the room. It was not clear if she was alive or dead.
Angry, Skathi ran at the undead, barely missing his great weapon. She punched it in the head and that had more of reaction than when it was impaled. The outsider forced it to the ground and beat it through its armor. It spoke again, but the force it wielded did not throw her, only briefly phase her.
When the creature found its magic found ineffective, it swung its great axe at Skathi, breaking the scale and mail and jamming its blade into her ribs. That made her angry. She took Rena's blade and decapitated the monster. That ended it.
Skathi rolled over in pain. The adrenaline left her system and she was feeling her body's damage take hold. She figured this is how she would die. As this slowly dawned on her, Rena entered her vision and held her.
"I've seen enough death for now," she stated, opening a potion for healing, "I won't lose you today."
The fowl liquid entered Skathi's mouth, but swallowing it let her wounds heal. She felt the pain in her ribs ease and the broken skin knit. The life returned to body and she knew that she would not die today. It still left her with a bad taste in her mouth.
The outsider investigated the sarcophagus and found the Dragonstone, still intact after untold years. Upon inspection, several letters like the ones on the curved wall were found on this artifact. She figured it was an ancient language but why was there a nagging part of her mind that said she knew what they meant?
"Will you tell the jarl I was here with you?" Rena asked.
"Maybe," Skathi replied.
She did not think it particularly mattered. But then again, maybe she should tell of how she went into the Barrow with her first friend.
Jeanne was finally warming up to Skyrim as she entered the late afternoon. The clouds parted as the sun grew close to the horizon's end, covering the land in gorgeous orange. The mountain did little to cover it, but a great statue of a woman that stood taller than any did cast a shadow on the cliffs and ravines. Though still cold, the sunlight made it seem as crisp as an autumn morning in High Rock.
Her and her companion were riding down the road to Winterhold, but Ravani took a right turn down a slope, leading Jeanne to follow. They soon came to the water, full of ice and rock islands. The Breton soon figure now was the time to swim, which didn't sound good. Water that naturally forms ice is surely too cold to even lay your feet.
"Don't tell me we're going swimming," Jeanne begged.
"I am going to swim," Ravani explained, "You are going to hold on as well as you can."
The Dunmer then began to strip her clothes down to the skin. Jeanne couldn't believe this was happening, as she'd never seen a naked woman. The Breton found Ravani's gray skin wrapped around muscles most men never have, either being too brawny or too small. The scars she barred were deep and old, like someone tried to kill her when she was younger.
Jeanne wasn't sure how to react. She had never seen the likes of this, especially a Dunmer. Of course, it probably for swimming, but what was she supposed to do? Strip? Other thoughts went through her head, but that one lingered until she was undressing herself.
"What are you doing?" Ravani asked, genuinely confused.
"Am I supposed to strip too?" Jeanne replied with a question.
"No, need your armor," the naked Dunmer stated, "I have a potion to keep the cold out, but only one. You need it more than I do. This is your test, not mine."
Jeanne nodded as Ravani gave her a potion. The label said, "Elgrim's Elixirs, Potion of Resist Frost." She drank the whole thing down and a strange feeling began to course through her veins. At the start, she felt like she just came indoors from the cold and the hearth's heat melt away the weather's work. Suddenly, warm sweat beat out of her and her chest was like a cooking pot. It was clear these potions weren't meant for strolls.
As the potion's effect set in, Ravani took a jug from her satchel bag. Inside was the rank smell of goose fat the Breton knew from every North Wind's Prayer when she brought to help her father pick out the feast's main course. The Dunmer coated her body with it, from arms to legs to every inch until she was the greasiest thing you couldn't eat.
"Hang onto my neck," she stated.
The minute Jeanne held onto Ravani was when she immediately regretted her decisions in life. If you can't figure out why holding an unnaturally oily body, do it yourself and see how that feels or how your clothing now feels. You'll need a lot of bleach to get the goose fat out.
Ravani slowly submerged herself and Jeanne, then quickly stroked through cold water with great speed. It was hard to keep her mouth shut through whole thing, but her nose was harder to close. Salty sea water forced itself through her throat and lungs, but their cold didn't penetrate her. At least the potion was working.
Jeanne almost didn't notice when they came to land, only her hard coughs to force the water out. Once her breathing evened out, she looked up and found the dead body of a Nord with a broken neck. She panicked and almost went back in the water, but Ravani held an oily hand to her mouth, having gotten free of her hold.
"Don't panic," she whispered, "The island we're one has a number of bandits." She looked behind her to the dead body. "He found us, so I killed him," she continued, "I'll kill the rest. You don't need blood on your hands just yet."
Ravani snuck over to the to the body and looted a bow and quiver off it. Jeanne was in a haze from this. She had never seen a corpse before. Her parents never took her to crypts, there were no deaths in the family she was present for, no one killed anyone around her, including herself. The sight of it was sobering. It was in that moment, mortality finally cemented itself in her mind.
She didn't pay attention as Ravani slew the bandits. Occasionally, she would look over and see an arrow fatally pierce someone and she would turn away. She couldn't bear to see death at this time. She knew she would have to slay her amount of human beings when the time came, and her heart would ache at the thought. If only to be in a war where she could not slay husbands, wives, sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters or whatever else made you family.
Soon Ravani returned without the bow or quiver but blood on her hands. She had a look of pure empathy as she held out a book over to Jeanne.
"Found this in the shipwreck," she explained, "A ship called The Pride of Tel Vos wrecked here. It's someone's journal and you've got pockets." She looked in the Breton's eyes and said, "They deserve to be remembered."
After a small rest around the fire, the two got up to swim again. The goose fat was thinner, but still applied. Jeanne held on and Ravani once again swam with a speed like she was outrunning the Stag Prince. This took longer than before, but not because the Dunmer slowed.
But soon enough, they reached Serpent Stone Island. Covered in snow and monoliths atop a hill, this small land mass felt as older than Windhelm's ancient structure. Whatever purpose they served thousands of years ago forgotten, they were now a proving ground for the Stormcloaks.
Feeling the cold air, Jeanne summoned fire and threw it onto the ground in front of Ravani. "Warm up, ma'am," she ordered, "You'll need it."
The flame grew into a makeshift campfire without wood or kindling. The Dunmer sat her naked form down and absorbed the heat happily. At least one person was going to be happy.
Jeanne scaled the hill and drew her sword as a creature appeared. It was ice strung together on an invisible string around a monstrous skull made of the material. It moved like a fish, but there was no water to justify its wriggle. It was hard to believe it existed, but it did, and it was clear the Breton would need to kill it.
She tried to slash it with her blade, but the edge barely touched it. Instead, it wriggled and whipped Jeanne, tearing her gambeson but not her skin. She tried again but missed again. It spat strange ice and as it hit the snow, the spit jut icicles out that scratched at the Breton's legs.
It was time to show her true abilities. From Jeanne's hand, flames burst out and was slung the wraith. It fled, but soon spat more ice. She stepped back to avoid the attacked and summoned a fireball in her hand. She threw at the wraith and prayed that her hands and eyes could guide it to the icy skull. It struck and the ice broke apart, shattering across the frozen snow.
Jeanne took a moment to realize the gravity of what just happened. She had proven herself a Stormcloak in one of their company. If she maintained her convictions, she would now be a soldier for Skyrim's independence. If not, she had only slain an ice wraith, still an accomplishment. She prayed she would have the strength to slay only those who needed to die for the cause, never the innocent or unnecessary. If not, Arkay take her now.
"Dovahkiin!"
A sudden thunderous voice had cried this from the sky. It rumbled and shook the ground and echo for miles on end. It sounded ancient and alien. Whatever it meant, she only hoped it was not unfair news or the beginning of the world's end.
"What in Dagon's ballsack have you done?" Ravani asked like she just shat on the fine rug.
Jeanne doubted this had anything to do with her.
Rena didn't follow Skathi to Whiterun. She went as far as the road took her before diverging to the Imperial camp. It was pointless to tempt fate and enter the city when, as a member of the Legion, she wasn't invited. They had remained neutral for now, so she still would not do it if she were a Stormcloak, as impossible as that was.
When she returned to the camp in the late afternoon, she noticed everyone on edge. No one was making small talk; everyone had their swords within an arm's reach. They all seemed to be watching the center tent with interest. That was Knight Ansgar's tent, should he be out of the medicine tent.
Rena dismounted and approached the lodging, peaking in to find Whiterun guards. This was expected, given the quartermaster's mistake. He wasn't even a real quartermaster; just some guy they threw the position on. They didn't want Legion forces in their hold, lest the Stormcloaks think it meant Balgruuf was taking a side. Well, they were in their hold.
"We need more time to rest!" Ansgar barked.
"That doesn't change that you shouldn't be here," their commander barked back.
"How will we leave?" the captain inquired, "Do you suppose we crawl? Someone of us can't do anything else and we don't have any wagons."
"That was your mistake."
"No, Caius," Ansgar explained, "Our mistake was thinking you had enough of a heart to let a few squatters on your land."
"So, you admit you shouldn't be here?" Caius propped.
This question was followed by a punch square in the face. Ansgar left the Whiterun commander on the floor, nose bleeding and broken. His fellow guards drew their blades and so did the soldiers outside the tent to meet this, entering the lodging to defend their captain.
At this point, they entered a stand still. The Nords couldn't hope to win this fight, but neither could the Imperials. The former would certainly die from overwhelming numbers, but their healthy and more numerous brethren would surely notice their disappearance and descend upon their killers without regard. Death would be brought upon them.
And so, it was.
Shattering through the air, a roar caught their ears. It was surely unfamiliar to all, but Rena. It was the sound of a dragon. It was here.
"Dragon!" she screamed and ran out and away from the tent.
Rena searched the skies for where the dragon was. If there was a chance that they could end this crisis, she would gladly throw her life away in pursuit of this. She didn't care the acclaim she or the Legion would gain from accomplishing this, only that it should be slain. It was a danger to the Empire, and it was her duty to protect it from this beast.
She spotted it as it soared toward the camp from the west. The soldier watched the black wings glide over it and unleash fire upon them, screams to follow. It slashed a swath of flame and heat through the tents before pulling out.
Under better lighting, it was clear the dragon had silver scales, not ebony stone. Rena saw this and thunderous dread wrought her heart. There was more than one dragon.
One dragon had taken a town fortified with stone walls to the torch without a single arrow piercing its hide. Two, they could take any of the hold capitals without strong enough resistance. More and they would overrun Skyrim and perhaps all Tamriel. There was no hope for Men, Mer or Beast Folk.
The thought frightened Rena but did not deter her. In fact, it motivated her to kill the beast.
"Archers!" she ordered, "Loose every arrow you have on the dragon! Pick up the quivers of the dead when they fall. Do not retreat or fear until we have no arrows left!"
As the dragon made a second attack, fifty arrows total flew into the air and struck the dragon's hide. They did not pierce or jam, the shafts breaking in half on the scales. It unleashed another blast of fire on the camp and the heat threw her back.
Death surrounded Rena. Burning skin, hair and leather filled the air with a horrifying stench. Soldier covered with flames shrieked and scrambled around, trying to do something so that they may live. This was the desolation of a dragon's power. Skyrim was doomed.
"Fus ro dah!"
A shout of unnatural power thundered through the sky and struck the dragon in the air. Rena looked around to see where it came from, only to turn and find Captain Ansgar. His breath was deep, his two-hander drawn, and his steely eyes stared at the beast as if to dare it.
The dragon landed in the middle of the camp, felling several tents. Ansgar charged the beast, bringing his blade down onto its heading, connecting. Its hide didn't break.
"Fus ro dah!"
He shouted again in its face. The dragon was taken aback, but mostly annoyed. It took Ansgar in its mouth and threw him beyond sight. It turned its sight to Rena, staring into her soul with gilded eyes, until a horn that wasn't Imperial blew from somewhere else. It lifted and flew away from the camp.
Rena fell onto her back. If the dragon wouldn't kill her, the ash burning her lungs would. She coughed harder and harder until she threw up her last rations, choking on vomit burning her throat. Of all the ways to go, this wouldn't be the one she would've preferred. Pointless and without honor.
Motivated to still live, she dragged herself away from inferno. Her heavy armor was unhelpful towards this end, weighing her legs down as she found it difficult to stand. She moved herself as far away from the flames as the tents shriveled up like burned paper. Health potions would not help her condition, she knew that.
On the unburnt grass, her consciousness began to fade. She fought to stay awake, unwilling to chance it in case it would cause her death. There she laid, waiting for something to happen. Death to take her or reinforcements to join with, it didn't matter. She wanted something to happened and she couldn't do it.
Skathi ran up the steps to Dragonsreach to find Farengar talking to a strange figure. Dressed in hooded leathers, she lacked anything identifiable beyond fair skin seen on her ungloved hands. They spoke like old acquaintances; strange given she was probably was not a mage. The outsider wondered their relations. Skathi cleared her throat just to get the wizard's attention.
"Ah, you're back!" he said surprised, "I assume you have the Dragsonstone?"
"Got it right here," the outsider announced, giving him the artifact, "What next?"
"That is where your job ends and mine begins," he explained, "The work of the mind, sadly undervalued in Skyrim."
Before the wizard could even take a step, Irileth ran in. "Farengar!" she called, "Farengar, you need to come at once. A dragon's been sighted nearby." She turned to Skathi and said, "You should come, too."
A dragon? Not the dragon? The outsider jumped to the fearful thought there was more than the ebony black one that torched Helgen. A thousand terrible thoughts came to mind, as one of the creatures was already a nightmare forged in life; more than that and the amount of people that would not see the dawn rose countless times.
"A dragon! How exciting!" he beamed, "Where was it seen? What was it doing?"
"I'd take this a bit more seriously if I were you" the Dunmer barked, "If a dragon decides to attack Whiterun, I don't know if we can stop it. Let's go."
Skathi and Farengar went with her. If she was to be useful, even against these creatures, even if a thousand dragons that may live in the sky today, she would be needed. Others had reasons to live, but she did not. No family to survive her, little friends to mourn her, no lover to grieve. Few could say that truthfully and she was truly one of them.
Irileth led the outsider and the wizard to a staircase to the side of the throne and followed her up. She came to a room that seemed dedicated to strategy, but the exact name escaped her. There was Jarl Balgruuf, Proventus and one of the guards. The guard seemed a few years seasoned but scared like a boy in in the night when he hears raised voices. Dragons have that effect on people, even the hardiest folk.
"So, Irileth tells me you came from the western watchtower?" Jarl Balgruuf asked him.
"Yes, my lord," he humbly confirmed.
"Tell him what you told me," Irileth coaxed, "About the dragon."
"Uh, that's right," he said like he had been shaken from a nightmare, "We saw it coming from the south. It was fast. Faster than anything I've ever seen."
"What did it do?" Balgruuf desperately inquired, "Is it attacking the watchtower?"
"No, my lord," he replied "It was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fast in my life." He zoned out for a moment in thought before coming back. "I thought it would come after me for sure."
"Good work, son," the jarl said in congratulation and solace, "We'll take it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest. You've earned it." When the guard left, he turned to the Dunmer, "Irileth, you'd better gather some guardsmen and get down there."
"I've already ordered my men to muster near the main gate," she stated
"Good. Don't fail me," he ordered like he expected to frighten off death.
The jarl turned to the outsider. "You've already done a great service for my city," he said, "but I must ask your help again."
"Your guards have families," she stated, "I don't. I'm ready to die."
The jarl looked frighten and concerned but nodded grimly. Perhaps he had heard these sentiments before, whether they were true or not. He seemed a man who had fought with people who thought they had nothing to lose but life and that is just what happened. The number of parents, children, lovers and friends he must have consoled in his time must have been too much.
"I should come along," Farengar interjected, "I would very much like to see this dragon."
"No. I can't afford to risk both of you," the jarl barked, "I need you here working on ways to defend the city against these dragons."
"As you command," the wizard accepted with rolled eyes.
"One last thing, Irileth," Balgruuf said to the Dunmer, "This isn't a death or glory mission. I need to know what we're dealing with."
"Don't worry, my lord. I'm the very soul of caution," she replied, giving a small bow before leaving.
Skathi soon followed. She ran down the stairs of Dragonsreach before reaching the doorway, where she practically burst through wood. She stumbled for a moment before catching herself and keeping at it. Her long strides led to jumps as she leaped from landing to landing until she found herself in the garden before the marketplace.
The outsider's run was interrupted by hand on her arm and she very nearly fell on her back. She turned around to find a Khajiit, cloaked and hunched under the elder tree. Skathi had met his kind before, but none with the strange gaze this one had. One look into his eyes, it was looking into mirror with every plane of oblivion reflected. That was frightening enough, but his aura of confidence was almost like he welcomed even Molag Bal's challenge to his life.
"Here," he ordered, giving over a black quiver of arrows, "You'll need this."
The quiver was embroidered with this strange gray metal with even stranger letters long it. The arrows themselves were pitch black from notch to spine. She checked and the heads were two pronged like a crab's claw. She did not recognize this design, nor what it could be made of.
"Well?" the Khajiit asked, "Get going!"
Skathi resumed her run to the watch tower. She hardly noticed Irileth's guards and passed them by. She ran down the ramparts and gateways to the farms. The fading afternoon light told her there was little time left to reach the guards, even if that was not its purpose. At this, she ran even faster. She could almost feel the wind give her steps speed.
She looked out onto the fields in Whiterun's shadow and saw the flaming Imperial camp. Soldiers cried in pain as the fire burned their skin and friends. The smell of torched human flesh was horrific, almost making Skathi gag. Knowing Rena was amongst them, she hardened, knowing there would be no one to mourn her death. At least their hearts would remain unbroken.
She arrived at a rock not far from the tower. It was good cover. She waited for Irileth and the guards. By the time they arrived, it was nearly sunset.
"No signs of any dragon right now, but it sure looks like he's been here," Irileth remarked the sight of the tower wreathed in flames, "I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened. And if that dragon is still skulking around somewhere." She ordered, "Spread out and look for survivors. We need to know what we're dealing with."
The outsider, the Dunmer and the guards all drew their weapons and search the area. The flame danced on the cold grass, but would soon fade, as was Skyrim's promise. No corpses lay on the premises, perhaps meaning the dragon had eaten. Suddenly, a still living guard burst from the tower at the sight of them.
"No! Get back! It's still here somewhere!" he screamed, "Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!"
Irileth ran up to the man. "Guardsman! What happened here?" she inquired, "Where's this dragon? Quickly now!"
"I don't know!" he said before looking up and his eyes doubled in size, "Kynareth save us, here he comes again!"
Above them all, a silvery gold dragon flew from the mountains flew with clear intent to burn the tower to the ground. So, it was true: there were more dragons than just the black one. Skathi could not believe Skyrim would survive this crisis. Their kind was in myth and legend, and while heroes did slay them, what heroes were there left to fight them all?
"Here he comes!" Irileth bellowed, "Find cover and make every arrow count!"
Skathi ran into tower and ran up the stairs. She made it to the top and nocked a black arrow into her bow, pulling it back. She aimed to at the dragon in motion and loosed it. Missed. Moving targets were always difficult to hit, but one with the gift of flight was near impossible.
It began to hover in the air and unleash fire upon Irileth and the guards. Skathi saw this as an opportunity and loosed another arrow into the dragon's belly. It connected, but the beast hardly seemed affected. Another arrow, but it still did not fall. Eventually it broke off and threw its fire at the tower.
Skathi ran to dodge the beast's destruction. What happened next was beyond belief. The fire reached her faster than she reached the stairs. She hardly had time to processed this when it engulfed her. Blinding pain coursed across her body. When she opened her eyes, she was still alive, unburnt and still in the land of the living. What blessing or witchcraft was this?
Beside her, she found her bow ash. She checked her armor, which did not suffer the same fate, but was still damaged. She was glad that she was still decent but wondered why this protect was upon her.
Out from the tower, she saw a small group of Imperial soldiers entered the battle. Still living, still ready for battle. And at the center was none other than Rena. Skathi may have thought no one would mourn when she died, but she knew who she would mourn of she met Arkay's grasp.
The outsider searched the tower for another bow. She found one and nocked another black arrow. When the dragon began hover again, she loosed it into its throat. The beast writhed in pain and fell to the ground. It still lived and soon threw fire again.
Protective of whom she considered her only friend, Skathi ran down the tower to meet the dragon on the ground. She ran the faster she had gone, only slowing down to grab a discarded sword. As the beast prepared to unleash a burst of flames onto the Imperials, Skathi jumped onto the back of its head, using a horn for leverage.
On the side of its throat, she found were the black arrow broke its skin. She brought her sword down onto the open wound, making it grow. She struck it again and again until the beast spasmed. The life was leaving its body. As she leaped down from it, it said something no one would forget from this area, even onto the ending of the world.
"Dovahkiin? NO!"
And so, it fell dead on the ground. From its lifeless form, strange energies irrupted from its form, like strings made from the nightly lights. They flew from the air with no direction or purpose until they passed Skathi. They went straight into her form and filled her with a feeling she found alien, but beautiful.
She could feel something older than the foundation of the earth. Powers and knowledge long dead reached into her mind and showed her things no mortal had known for untold millennia. There was a sense of peace in her she had truly never felt. She felt like Kynareth had given her a kiss, if that makes any sense.
What had she done?