The road to Ivarstead then to the Throat of the World and High Hrothgar led me down the same path that I'd taken with Hadvar when we'd fled Helgen for Riverwood after the dragon attacked. The woods were peaceful. Birds chirped softly in the trees on either side as I walked and a breeze rustled through the branches. I took a deep breath of mountain air, hoisted my pack higher on my back, and kept walking.

That was when I noticed that the birdsong had stopped. There was no sound but the wind in the trees. I hesitated, frowning, and reached for my bow. Something was wrong.

Another path led off of the one I walked on. I followed it, creeping along as quietly as I could. A chill crept down my spine and a sense of foreboding filled me. As I rounded a corner, I realized why.

Bodies of several people lay on the ground, lying in pools of their own blood. Their sightless eyes were wide. Overturned benches littered the area between the corpses and on a nearby rock outcropping was a life-size statue of a man. My heart twisted painfully as I realized who it was a depiction of.

Talos.

I picked my way through the carnage, feeling sick. On the other side of the shrine, partway down the cliff overlooking the lake, was the body of an Altmer dressed in extravagant black robes. Knife wounds peppered his chest. It looked like he'd been attacked and crawled away before falling down there. Then I noticed something sticking out of his pocket. A piece of paper. I carefully climbed down to the body. Pulling it out, I unfolded it and read what it said.

Agent Sanyon,

In response to your report dated 22nd Hearthfire 4E201, your request for an expeditionary force is hereby denied.

Sanyon, this is the seventh report you have filed this month, and not one of your leads – not one! – has turned up so much as a shred of evidence that a Shrine of Talos exists in the Lake Ilinalta region. No prisoners. No documents. Nothing!

Our forces are stretched thin enough as it is, and I have better missions – better agents – to assign them to. If you feel so sure of your informant, investigate this yourself. Come back with proof. Or not at all.

By my hand and seal,

Elenwen

So this had been a Thalmor agent hunting down worshippers of Talos? My lip curled into an angry sneer and I kicked the body off the ledge, listening with satisfaction as it hit the ground far below. The s'wit didn't deserve any mercy, not even if he was dead.

I climbed back up to the shrine, and looked around. There was nothing I could do for those people. I didn't have time to bury them or…

The glint of sunlight reflecting off of something caught my eye. One of the worshippers was holding something. When I knelt down to look I saw it was a bronze amulet in the shape of Talos's sword tied onto a leather cord. I carefully pulled it from the man's hand and wiped it off. If there was ever a sign, it was this. I tied it around my neck and tucked it beneath my shirt, feeling the cool metal on my skin over my heart. I looked back at the bodies of the poor souls, then at the statue of Talos.

Inclining my head to him, I murmured darkly, "I won't forget this. I swear."


Ivarstead was a small village in the Rift, nestled at the base of the Throat of the World. The trees surrounding the village had mostly lost their leaves already, but the ones that still clung stubbornly to their branches were the color of gold or fire. The residents eyed me as I passed down the street. Several shook their heads and I heard them mutter something about "another pilgrim." To the mountain, I guessed. Jarl Balgruuf has mentioned something about making a pilgrimage up to the top before, hadn't he?

The road through the town branched off onto a bridge crossing the river that ran alongside the town. Beyond it I could see the trail leading up the mountain. Two men stood on the bridge. A Bosmer and a Nord. They were talking.

"On your way up the Seven Thousand Steps again, Klimmek?" The mer asked.

The Nord, Klimmek, shook his head. "Not today. I'm just not ready to make the climb to High Hrothgar. The path isn't safe."

"Aren't the Greybeards expecting some supplies?"

"Honestly, I'm not certain. I've yet to be allowed into the monastery. Perhaps one day."

The mer shrugged and walked away, heading back into town. The Nord glanced at me and nodded toward the mountain.

"Passing through on your way to High Hrothgar? About to make a delivery up there myself. Maybe," he said.

"Yes. Anything you can tell me about it?"

He shrugged. "I've been to the monastery many times, but I've never even laid eyes on one of the Greybeards. Not that I'd care to. Being masters of the Thu'um, they could kill you by uttering a single word. Well, not that they would. They seem peaceful, but I wouldn't want to provoke them."

"What delivery are you making up there?"

"Mostly food supplies like dried fish and salted meats. You know, things that keep fresh for a long time. They Greybeards tend not to get out much, if you catch my meaning."

"And what do you get in return?"

"Well, it's kind of an understanding between us," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, it just wouldn't feel right to charge them for a bit of preserved food. Trouble is, my legs aren't what they used to be and climbing the Seven Thousand Steps takes its toll."

I glanced up toward the peak. "I suppose I could take it up for you, since I have to go anyway."

His brows shot up in surprise. "Really? That would be kind of you. Here, take this bag of supplies." He handed me a sack. Kneeling down, I pulled off my pack and tied it on to keep it in place and free my hands. As I worked, he continued, "At the top of the steps you'll see the offering chest. Just leave the bag inside and you're done."

"Anything I should watch out for on the way up?" I asked him as I hoisted my pack back onto my shoulders.

"Well, there's the occasional wolf pack or stray, but that's all I've ever had to deal with. Shouldn't be a problem for the likes of you," he added, eyeing my weapons. "Other than that, watch your footing. In these wintry conditions, the stairs can be treacherous."

"Right. Thanks."

I stepped past him and toward the trail. Sure enough, there were worn stone steps leading up the winding trail that led up to the peak. Taking a deep breath, I began the slow climb to the summit.


"Occasional wolf, he said. That lying s'wit," I snarled as I wrenched one of my arrows out of the troll's corpse. There had, in fact, been several wolves on the way up. They were easy enough to deal with. What he hadn't mentioned was the troll living near the top. I'd barely made it out of that fight in one piece.

I glanced down at the arrow in my hand. Its tip was covered in blood and sticky yellow-white troll fat. Useless. I tossed it aside with a noise of disgust and kept trudging through the ankle-deep snow. I'd seen a few others on the mountain with me. Pilgrims, all of them at the small shrines that dotted the trail. I hadn't stopped. There wasn't time for that. So I'd just kept going. I'd almost made it to the end when I ran into that gods-damned troll. When I rounded the corner of the gorge that the trail cut through, I saw it.

The High Hrothgar monastery was a long building that stretched across the mountain and was made of large gray stone blocks. It was lit by the light of the setting sun. One tall turret rose from the middle. Along the walls I could see a number of small windows. At the very front the pilgrims seemed to have erected an altar of some kind. Drakes littered the ground, as well as flowers whose petals were coated with shimmering frost. On either side of the altar a set of stairs led up to the monastery's doors.

I carefully stepped around the offerings so as not to crush them and opened the chest at the back. That was where Klimmek had said to put the supplies. I did, closing the chest's lid again, and made my way up toward the doors leading inside the building.

When I opened the door, I stepped into a hall that was dark and drafty. A few braziers were lit in the corners, but they did little more than cast long shadows on the cold stone walls. I pulled down my hood and took a few more cautious steps forward. My footsteps echoed through the room. Out of the corner of my eye I saw several figures in hooded gray robes stepping out of shadowed doorways. The Greybeards. One of them came to me, while the rest hung back warily.

"So," he said in a hoarse voice, "a Dragonborn appears at this moment in the turning of the age."

"I'm answering your summons."

"Yes. We will see if you truly have the gift. Show us, Dragonborn. Let us taste of your voice." When I hesitated, remembering what it had done the last time I'd tried, he said, "Do not be afraid. Your Shout will not harm us."

I nodded and took a deep breath. The sound crept up onto the tip of my tongue and I released it. A pulse shot through the air. The Greybeard staggered, but only for a moment. Then he nodded.

"Dragonborn. It is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards. Now tell me, why have you come here?"

Wasn't it obvious? "Like I said, I was answering your summons."

He bowed slightly and said, "We are honored to welcome a Dragonborn to High Hrothgar. We will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfillment of your destiny."

"And what is my destiny?" I asked him, feeling wary.

"That is for you to discover. We can show you the Way, but not your destination."

I took a deep breath. No going back now. "I'm ready to learn."

"Very well. We shall begin in the morning. For now I shall show you to your room."

He led me down one of the halls branching off of the main chamber and into a small room. Like the rest of the monastery, it was small and cold. Arngeir bowed and left me alone. Sighing, I dropped my pack near the bed and sat down. I tugged my boots off, but otherwise remained clothed as I curled up in the blanket that covered the bed. It was too cold for anything else.

As sleep crept into my mind, I wished not for the first time that I wasn't so alone.


"Finally getting over your weakness, are you?" She laughed. Her red hair glowed as flames licked at the wavy strands.

"Leave me alone," I snapped.

The shadow version of myself smirked. "I'm you, remember? I can't go anywhere. And every step you take brings you closer to this."

"You're lying."

"Am I? You recognize what I did in the grove, don't you? Shouting. You can do that now as well. Dreh ni krif daar. This is your fate."

"Stop."

"Make me."

I sat up with a sharp gasp. I was in the small room the Greybeards gave me in High Hrothgar, shivering from the chill. Arngeir stood in the doorway. Behind him, I could see that it was still dark outside the monastery's windows.

"Come," he said. I nodded and got to my feet, tugging on my boots.

I followed him back out into one of the side chambers where another of the Greybeards was waiting.

"You have shown that you are Dragonborn," Arngeir said. "You have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? That remains to be seen. Without training, you have already taken the first steps toward projecting your Voice into a Thu'um, a Shout. Now let us see if you are willing and able to learn.

"When you shout, you speak in the language of dragons. Thus, your Dragon Blood gives you an inborn ability to learn Words of Power. All Shouts are made up of Words of Power. As you master each Word, your Shout will become progressively stronger. Master Einarth will now teach you "Ro," the second Word in Unrelenting Force."

"That's what I've been doing?" I asked him. He nodded.

"Ro means "Balance" in the dragon tongue. Combine it with Fus – "Force" – to focus your Thu'um more sharply."

Einarth pointed to a piece of parchment marked with the strange letters like the ones I'd seen on the wall in Bleak Falls Barrow. The letters of the dragon language, I realized.

"Ro," he whispered. Despite the forced quiet of his voice, power still tingled in the air.

"Ro," I murmured in response. Unlike before, I could actually make out the letters. Yes. Ro. I could see it now. The letters buzzed in my head and sizzled through my veins.

Arngeir was watching me. I glanced over at him.

"You learn a new word like a master… You truly do have the gift," he said, sounding almost reverent. "But learning a Word of Power is only the first step. You must unlock its meaning through constant practice in order to use it in a Shout. Well, that is how the rest of us learn Shouts. As Dragonborn, you can absorb a slain dragon's life force and knowledge directly. Now let us see how quickly you can master your new Thu'um."

The two Greybeards led me into the main chamber where the others were already waiting. Einarth took his place among the others.

Arngeir led me to stand across from them and told me, "Use your Unrelenting Force shout to strike the targets as they appear."

I nodded and he stepped back. My hands clenched into fists at my sides as I tensed, waiting.

"Fiik lo sah!"

A ghostly image of the Greybeard who had shouted appeared in front of me. I concentrated on the words, let them build on my tongue, and released.

"Fus ro!"

As before a pulse of energy shot from my mouth. This one was stronger, however, and dissipated the apparition. I glanced over at Arngeir. He nodded slowly.

"Well done, Dragonborn. You learn quickly. Again."


I stayed for a week, the Greybeards teaching me what they could about the dragon language and the Thu'um, as they called it. The words they spoke to me and showed me how to read and write felt… eerily natural. I still struggled somewhat, but there was an undeniable sense of rightness about it. Soon I was able to pronounce and read some basic words.

They also kept me busy practicing using my Voice. The strange sensation that it sent racing through me every time I used the power slowly died away as I became more and more accustomed to using it. As soon as that became easier, they started teaching me how to use other Shouts.

We stood in the snow-filled courtyard behind the main building of the monastery. I crossed my arms and tried to ward off as much of the chill as I could. The icy wind from the mountaintop blew a few loose strands of red hair across my face. The most recent word they'd taught me how to use was Wuld. "Whirlwind." Now they were having me test it.

I waited behind Arngeir and another Greybeard. Some distance away the Greybeard named Borri waited by a metal gate.

"Master Wulfgar will demonstrate Whirlwind Sprint. Then it will be your turn," Arngeir explained. He nodded to the two other Greybeards. Borri Shouted and the gate swung wide. Wulfgar Shouted as well and an instant later he was through. The gate closed behind him.

I swallowed hard. Where Wulfgar had stopped was awfully close to a cliff edge. If I were to fall from the mountain at that height…

"Now it is your turn. Stand next to me. Master Borri will open the gate. Use the Shout to pass through before it closes."

I readied myself, forcing the worrying thought from my mind. Every muscle in my body was taught as a bowstring.

"Bex!" I heard Borri Shout.

"Wuld!"

Air whistled past my ears and for an instant it felt like I was falling. Then I slammed to an abrupt halt a foot or two in front of Wulfgar, who stood between me and the cliff's edge. A slight smile touched his lips and he nodded approvingly. I fought desperately to catch my breath as I stood there. My head spun and my heart raced wildly.

When I finally felt as if I could walk without falling over I trudged back across the courtyard to where Master Arngeir waited. The Greybeard looked me over appraisingly.

"Your quick mastery of the Thu'um is… astonishing. I'd heard the stories of the abilities of the Dragonborn, but to see it for myself…"

"I don't know how I do it. It just… happens," I told him, shrugging lightly.

"You were given this gift by the gods for a reason," he insisted. "It is up to you to figure out how best to use it. You are now ready for your last trial. Retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder, from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav. Remain true to the Way of the voice, and you will return."

"I must ask… do you know why the dragons are returning?" I hesitated for a moment and added, "And does it have something to do with me?"

He nodded slowly and my heart sank. "No doubt. The appearance of a Dragonborn at this time is not an accident. Your destiny is surely bound up with the return of the dragons. You should focus on honing your Voice, and soon your path will be made clear."

"Very well. I will continue my training."

"Good. Then you will be ready for whatever lies ahead."

One could only hope that were true.