The Worst Student at Winterhold

by Mr. Teatime

Two students from the College of Winterhold stumble upon a strange Khajiit who may just be the most important person in Skyrim. Completed! Features 2 OCs, Brelyna Maryon, J'zargo, and the rest of the College of Winterhold personalities.

5. The Battle of Winterhold

(( Here is the final chapter. Thanks once more for all the comments - everything is greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoyed the story! ))

Part V: The Battle of Winterhold

Fire flowed through his veins, lighting his muscles and filling his lungs with smoke. He was amazed he was even still conscious, let alone moving at such a rapid pace; or at least he would've been amazed, had he stopped to think at all. The world around him was a blur. He was vaguely aware of the body in his arms, still alive but bleeding out fast from what appeared to be a vicious yet clean stab wound to the chest. He recalled hearing a garbled sound that his brain told him was Decimius, telling him to bring J'zargo to Plinius, who would be able to stabilize him. He shoved his way past Synod researchers who were gathering to see what all the commotion was about.

Ned yelled something unintelligible as he made it back to the beginning of the Mzulft ruins, hoping to attract Plinius' attention. Sure enough, the aging Imperial came bustling out of his alcove, saw the swiftly approaching Bosmer covered in blood and hefting a dying Khajiit, and ran back in. He swung an arm across his workbench, sending half a dozen massive bronze devices clattering onto the floor, and indicated for Ned to lay J'zargo flat upon the surface.

Plinius grabbed some linen cloth, which he miraculously had close at hand, and began to staunch the blood flow seeping out of J'zargo's chest. Ned stood there watching him, drenched and sticky with blood, his brain still not entirely caught up with everything that had happened.

"What happened to him?" Plinius asked, alternating between casting restoration spells with one hand and applying pressure to the wound with the other.

"I 'uhno," Ned mumbled. He shook his head, the world starting to come back into focus for him. What HAD happened?

S'shani and Ned had split up. Ned had gone after Decimius, whom S'shani had been convinced was a monstrous individual capable of nothing but pure evil. Instead, he had spun a tale about S'shani being the unstable and dangerous one, claiming the Khajiit had been responsible for the deaths of dozens of innocents. And then, at that moment, S'shani had seemingly disappeared from the ruins without a trace, leaving behind the potentially mortally wounded J'zargo.

Could S'shani really have done this? Ned had experienced a strange distrust of the Khajiit since they had first met, but had finally begun to feel a genuine connection of friendship and honesty. The Synod, on the other hand, could have set him up somehow. Couldn't they have?

"Is he," Ned began, before his voice cut out. He cleared his throat, and tried again. "Is he going to live?"

"Hard to say," Plinius said. His hands were now flecked with blood as well, but J'zargo no longer appeared to be bleeding out. "He's not going to die in the next few minutes, but he'll need to see a more advanced healer than I, and quickly. Otherwise he may still lapse into a coma, and die of malnutrition."

"I'll take him back to the College," Ned said, making to pick up J'zargo once more. Plinius shook his head.

"That's awfully far away," he responded. "It may actually be faster to head south with us, we've got more Synod working outside The Rift..."

"No," Ned yelped, a little quicker and louder than he had intended. He hastily added, "I'll go fast. I'll get him there in time."

Plinius gave him a strange look, but nodded. "Okay. Then go!"

Ned grabbed J'zargo under the neck and knees, bundling him up to rush him outside, where the horses Brelyna and J'zargo had rode in on were grazing. He took a moment to secure J'zargo to the saddle of one, then hopped on in front of him. He worried for a moment that the rapid galloping across the rugged terrain of Eastmarch and Winterhold Hold (still a dumb name) would be too much for J'zargo in his weakened state. Perhaps he ought to trust the Synod and take him to their camp.

No - S'shani may not have been entirely honest with him, but Decimius certainly hadn't been either. He was going back to the College, where at the very least, J'zargo would be safe from any further attempts on his life. He spurred the horse forward, and let the ruins sink into the distance behind him.

Thankfully, he was able to recall the general direction to get back to a main road, and followed it to the trade highway outside of Windhelm, and from there circled around to the east, into the particularly frozen north. It was snowing - it always seemed to be snowing here - and Ned fervently spurred the horse on to pick up its pace, worried about the frigid climate offing J'zargo while his body was so weak.

It was funny, really, being so concerned about J'zargo. The Khajiit had always held a fierce sense of competition with his fellow mages, but seemed to have taken a particular shine to playfully tormenting Ned. And, to be fair, J'zargo had good reason to be cocky; he had always been an incredibly bold and successful magic-user, enthralled with crafting new abilities for himself to show off with. He possessed a spark for the art that Ned had always found lacking in himself.

Now, he was reduced to the healthiness of an infant, and Ned was terrified he would get him killed. He just wanted, more than anything, for J'zargo to be okay.

Though it was still dark out, morning a few more hours away, Ned could see the towers of the College on the horizon. He had been expecting an overwhelming feeling of relief when he finally reached it, but instead, as he laid eyes on it, he felt incredibly nervous. Something was wrong.

The air was crackling with a strange energy, even this far away, and an ethereal glow was emanating around the College. As he rode closer, slowing the horse down to enter the town, he noticed crowds of people milling about in the streets, staring nervously at the College.

A massive sphere of energy was swirling around the college, pulsating like a beating heart, and making a high-pitched noise as if powerful gusts of wind were blowing through it. Ned noticed that many members of the College were gathered at the base of the bridge, staring up at the energy field, which cut across the center of the only pathway onto the campus.

"What's going on?" Ned called out, as he rode his horse over to the group and dismounted, his urgent need to get J'zargo aid momentarily forgotten.

Savos Aren, who had been in deep discussion with one of the professors, spun around upon hearing Ned's voice, and stormed towards him.

"You! You have some explaining to do, Nedhelfin!" he snapped, jabbing a finger into Ned's chest.

Ned recoiled, holding up his hands innocently. "I didn't do anything! I just got here!" he yelped.

"You left with S'shani earlier today," Aren loudly stated, as if presenting evidence before a trial. "You claimed to be heading to the Ruins of Mzulft, where the Synod have been located, despite my orders that Brelyna Maryon and J'zargo were to go alone. Then, S'shani comes back, and-"

"S'shani is here?" Ned quickly asked, but was cut off by someone finally noticing J'zargo, and screaming.

"J'zargo's unconcious!" the student, Onmund, cried out. "He's all pale, like he's been badly wounded!"

"Oh, right," Ned said. "J'zargo needs healing, fast."

"Let me see him," came the voice of Colette Marence, the College professor for the school of Restoration. She rushed over, unhooked J'zargo, and laid him down at the foot of the bridge, swiftly administering highly advanced healing spells. Ned let out a sigh of relief.

"And how, exactly, did J'zargo come to be grievously wounded?" Aren asked, still looking accusatorily at Ned.

"Okay, I can explain that," Ned said, then paused. "Wait. Actually I can't. But I need to speak to S'shani!"

"You can't!" Aren screamed.

"Why not?" Ned screamed back, not entirely sure why they were screaming.

"Because he's in there!" the arch-mage yelled, pointing towards the College. Ned stared at the pulsating wall of energy that was clearly barring entry in or out of the campus grounds.

"Wait," he said, realization slowly dawning. "You mean he..?"

"He's doing something to the Eye of Magnus," Aren said with a nod. "He found a way to activate it. There's too much power here! It could rip the entire town of Winterhold to shreds! We've been trying to figure out a way to get in there, but none of our magic is even making a dent." The arch-mage turned back to the sphere, which seemed to be steadily expanding, the whooshing noise growing louder. Ned gulped, but had a sinking feeling he knew what to do.

"I'm going in," he said, trying to sound as bold as he could, and took a few steps towards the bridge.

"You're welcome to try," Aren said with a shrug.

"No, YOU'RE out of line!" Ned snapped, twirling around to face the arch-mage, who gave him a blank stare. "Er, sorry. I really thought you were going to tell me I was out of line."

Feeling a bit foolish, he turned back towards the bridge, and walked up the stone steps. He was aware that many of the congregated mages were watching him, probably expecting him to have some amazing spell or clever trick up his sleeve.

He stepped as close to the magical barrier as he could, staring straight through it to where the front doors to the Hall of the Elements had been blown off their hinges. He couldn't see much further beyond that, but he cleared his throat and called out as loudly as he could.

"S'shani. It's Nedhelfin. Let me in."

His hood had long since fallen down behind his head, and his greasy hair was blowing as if caught in a powerful gale. He waited a moment, tense yet oddly confident. Suddenly, there was a break in the storm; the magical barrier lowered. Ned recognized his cue, and stepped through it. Immediately it closed back up behind him.

Things were strangely calm in here. He walked the rest of the way down the stone bridge as if in a dream. No sounds came through from the outside, and the air was perfectly still, the wind caught in a cyclone around the outer edges of the energy wall. As he reached the courtyard, he noticed much of the stonework appeared cracked and weakened, likely caused when the energy had passed through it on its steady expansion outwards.

He passed through the open archway to the Hall of the Elements, the stone doors collapsed into the snow in front of it. As he entered the building, he could hear a high-pitched, almost angelic hum permeating from the main chamber. There was also a very bright blue glow, forcing him to bring an arm up to shield his eyes as he made his way inwards.

The Eye of Magnus floated in its usual position in the center of the chamber, emanating both the hum and the glow, which intensified as he stepped closer to it. He could make out a figure standing nearby, arms outstretched towards the Eye, connected with it by a thin beam of energy.

"S'shani," Ned said, trying to keep his voice level.

"Nedhelfin," S'shani said, keeping his gaze focused on the Eye. "I am glad you have come."

"You need to stop this," Ned said, his hands shaking, but his voice struggling to stay firm. "You're going to destroy the entire College."

"I do not wish to do such a thing," S'shani said, his voice soft and sorrowful. "It is not my desire to destroy this town-"

"Like you destroyed that town when you were a kid?" Ned asked, his voice spiking with anger. S'shani did not respond, so he pushed on. "Decimius told us. Dozens of innocent men, women...even children, S'shani. You let them die, just to get away from the Synod?"

There was another heavy moment of silence, then S'shani replied, "it was a mistake."

"A mistake? Killing dozens of people is a bit more than a 'mistake'!" Ned yelled, taking a few steps closer towards the Khajiit. "You had me so convinced you were the sympathetic figure here. You shook my hand, you looked me in the eye, and you said 'no more lies!'"

"I am sorry I did not-"

"Sorry? You're SORRY?" Now Ned was furious, feeling all of the suspicion, uncertainty and distrust he had felt towards S'shani coalesce into blind, seething hatred. "How am I supposed to trust a single thing you say or do? Maybe the Synod are right! Maybe you are just a dangerous freak, who needs to be stopped!"

"I would not argue that point," S'shani sighed. "I have spent a long time wandering the world in deep contemplation, seeking penance for what I have done."

"Bullshit," Ned snapped. "You're running away. You could've been something. You're the Dragonborn, damnit! A prophesized hero! But you didn't do anything with it. You just ran, and hid, and lied! You're pathetic!"

S'shani kept his head down. Ned knew he had struck a nerve, and this only spurred him further.

"And the worst thing about all this? That's what I do! Me! I'm the most pathetic person I've ever met, while you're this badass, martial artist, dragon-blooded healer, and you're trying to be like me! Why on earth would you do that? You need to do better! The world NEEDS you to do better!"

"I'm trying," S'shani grumbled through gritted teeth. "You have to believe me, I am."

"I can't believe you," Ned said, shaking his head. "Not ever again. Now turn off the Eye."

"I cannot!" S'shani shouted. "Something grave is about to happen. The Synod-"

"Have Tamriel's best interest at heart!" Ned cut him off, a frost spell beginning to form in his hand. "You only care about yourself. Now turn off the Eye."

"Listen to me very carefully, Nedhelfin," S'shani said, desperation creeping into his voice. "The Synod do not have anyone's best interest at heart but their own. They are going to-"

"TURN. OFF. THE EYE." Ned knew what S'shani's reaction would be, and he knew what was inevitably to come.

"I'm sorry," S'shani whispered, "but no."

Ned threw the frostbolt as hard as he could, beaming S'shani in the shoulder. He grunted and stumbled to the side - not particularly wounded, but the lapse in concentration was all that was necessary for the Eye to dim, and the energy sphere it emanated to begin fading.

S'shani hopped to his feet. "Ned, you must not interfere," he said. "I must stop the Synod, and though it pains me to say it, I will do so even if I must go through you."

Ned summoned frost spells into both of his hands, causing them to glow a deep blue. He glared at S'shani, and said, "ice to meet you."

S'shani paused, quirking an eyebrow. "We've known each other for days."

"Yeah, but ice puns are kinda my thing and there are only so many I can ever think of," Ned said with a shrug. "Let's dance."

He shot a blast of frozen air towards the Khajiit, who nimbly dodged out of the way, circumventing the area of the spell and charging in towards Ned. Ned realized that a few good punches from S'shani would cause him to go down for the count, so he needed to keep his distance. He focused on the floor between them, and cast a spell on the stone tiles. A small purple rune, crudely drawn, began to glow; it caused a jolt of lightning to shoot out and zap S'shani as he stepped on it. It was weak, but gave Ned enough time to close the distance again and prepare another frost spell.

S'shani proved much more nimble in an open arena than he had been in the narrow tunnels of the Midden, and moved back and forth like a blur, causing Ned to panic and miss with his more powerful spells, which careened into the floor and walls, shattering uselessly. S'shani closed in and delivered a sharp punch to Ned's gut, causing him to bend over, but as he did so he fired a jolt of electricity out of his right hand, pushing S'shani backwards as he struggled to regain his composure.

Outside, the mages were collectively astonished that Nedhelfin, the student known for eating the most food and performing the least magic of anyone on the campus, had somehow managed to successfully lower the Eye's defensive field. Savos Aren was about to lead the collective charge back onto the campus, when he heard a call from behind him.

"Why hello, Savos!" the voice said. Aren spun around, and saw at least a dozen figures approaching on horseback, all of them clad in the gold and black robes of the Synod except for one: Brelyna Maryon. The figure in front, Decimius, offered a jovial smile and wave. "Having a bit of trouble, are we?"

Aren made his way back down the steps as Decimius dismounted his horse. The arch-mage was quite a bit taller than the Imperial, but Decimius kept a cocky grin plastered across his face, as the Dunmer looked nervous and uncertain.

"What are you and your men doing here, Decimius?" Aren asked, several of his fellow mages gathering around him to face what appeared to be an invading army of Synod.

"Just heard there were some difficulties up here, wanted to make sure everything was okay, and extend an olive branch of good will," Decimius replied. "I know we've never gotten along that great, but I'd like to think that, as fellow students of the magical arts, we can at least appreciate one another."

"Really? You've suddenly learned to appreciate the right of others to study and practice magic in the ways they see fit?" Aren responded, bringing up his full height to tower over Decimius. "That strikes me as a rather dramatic change in policy for the Synod."

Decimius' patronizing smile quickly turned into a scowl as he realized the act wasn't going to work here.

"Sir," Brelyna chimed in, walking over to them. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but did Ned arrive safely with J'zargo?"

"He's over here," Marence called out from the steps. "And it looks like he's starting to gain consciousness. That's not great. He's going to be in a lot of pain."

Brelyna and several others rushed over to his side, ignoring the healer's orders to stay back and give him space.

J'zargo's eyes fluttered open, meeting Brelyna's.

"Thank goodness you're okay," Brelyna whispered. "What happened?"

J'zargo looked as if he was summoning all his strength to speak, and gurgled out the words, "do not trust the Synod," before blacking out again.

As one, the mages of the College turned to face the Synod. Savos Aren furrowed his brow at Decimius, crossing his arms across his chest as if awaiting an explanation.

"Bah," Decimius said, waving a hand in the air. "Fine, Aren, I'll come out and say it: I'm willing to accept a surrender right now, and I suggest you and your people take it."

"A surrender?" Aren gawked, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What, are you planning on taking over the College?"

"No," Decimius said, slowly raising his right hand. "I plan to demolish it."

He lowered the hand, and as one, the platoon of mages behind him began to channel spells, summoning atronochs and sending gouts of fire, frost and lightning towards the assembled professors and students of the College.

Aren extended his arms out to his sides, and a wall of light sprung up in front of him, shielding the group from harm. He turned back to those assembled.

"This isn't going to hold for long!" he said. "I will not hold it against any who feel it is in their best interest to flee, but those who respect the study of magic enough to fight and perhaps die for it, be ready!"

He lowered the shield, unleashing a firestorm into the crowd of Synod, flinging a few aside. More spells erupted from behind him, as magical energies volleyed back and forth between the opposing forces

Inside the Campus, Ned and S'shani continued dancing around each other, locked in their personal duel. Ned could feel the energy draining from him, however; he wouldn't be able to keep up such rapid spell-casting much longer. Not only was S'shani fiendishly agile, but he appeared to be built like a tank, absorbing several direct blows with minimal apparent difficulty. Ned knew, given enough time, the Khajiit would wear him down and win the fight. He just had to hold out long enough for reinforcements to back him up.

Speaking of, where were those reinforcements? The field generated by the Eye of Magnus had gone down some time ago - why had no one charged inside to see what was going on?

He had just hit S'shani in the jaw with a shock spell, and the Khajiit was now panting heavily, taking a moment to regain his composure. Rather than press the advantage, Ned fell back a bit, straining his ears. It sounded like magic was being cast outside, alongside the occasional angry yell or scream of pain. What was going on?

He locked eyes with S'shani, who also seemed to have noticed something strange was going on. The two hobbled towards the doorway, their feud temporarily forgotten. Ned watched the battle unfolding with increasing confusion.

"The Synod," he said slowly, turning towards S'shani. "They're attacking us. I thought..."

"This is what I sought to warn you about," S'shani said, clutching his chest. "They do not seek to end the dragon threat, they seek to control it, so that they can wipe out all other magic use they do not sanction."

Ned tried to wrap his brain around this, but came up short. "Control it? What do you mean, 'control' the dragon threat?"

Outside, the mages had largely paired off, each one trying to overwhelm an opponent they had gauged as an equal. Urag gro-Shub had broken away from the group and was locked in a magical struggle with Plinius, the old men each displaying a startling amount of ferocity despite their age. The orsimer librarian lobbed ancient, obscure spells at his opponent, harassing him with jolts of pure energy and conjured animals, forcing the Synod researcher to rely on defensive spells and restoration to stay in the fight.

Casualties were beginning to mount on both sides. Several Synod had gone up in flames in the initial attack, but they had since redoubled their efforts; the student, Onmund, collapsed into the snow, felled by an overwhelming jolt of lightning from an older and more experienced Synod. Nirya, an older Altmer woman had been caught off guard by a powerful knock-back spell, and slammed her head against the stone steps, killing her instantly. Even one of the professors, Phinis Gestor, was torn apart as he attempted to break the Synod ranks with a storm atronoch at his side.

In the very center of the conflict, Savos Aren had squared off with Decimius, each assaulting each other with such powerful destruction spells that the ground was beginning to crack and burn around them. Both were putting their all into the confrontation, but neither seemed able to gain the upper hand.

Colette Marence ducked and weaved in and out of the battlefield, seeking any of her fellows in need of healing, applying restoration spells to them quickly, to help them get back into the fight. Brelyna had been left to watch nervously over the body of J'zargo, but when a fireball came hurtling towards them, she hurriedly picked up his body and ran for cover.

The citizens of Winterhold were in a panic; even the town guard knew not to get involved when so much destructive magic was being thrown around. Brelyna ran towards them, hoping her retreating form wouldn't make an ideal target, and gently lowered J'zargo onto the porch of the town's inn.

"Damn mages!" one of the guards yelled. "What is the meaning of this? You fools are going to destroy the town!"

"Shut up!" Brelyna snapped, turning back to J'zargo and applying some of her own healing magic to him. He was easily the best student when it came to destruction spells; if she could just get him stable enough...

J'zargo's eyes fluttered open once more. He let out a few violent coughs, as Brelyna held his head up and tried to sooth him.

"J'zargo!" she whispered, her voice permeating with urgency. "The Synod are attacking. You have to tell me - what happened in Mzulft? What are they up to?"

"Dragons," J'zargo said, spittle falling from the side of his mouth. "They're not planning to stop the dragons from coming back, they're planning to resurrect them. The woman I was speaking with, Bienne, she seemed to think J'zargo was cute - who could blame her, really -" J'zargo stopped for another coughing fit, and Brelyna made a hand motion urging him to ease up on the self-flattery and get on with the story. "Sorry. She said they've already found several. They're planning on bringing one here. They're going to demolish the College, kill anyone who will not submit to them."

"A dragon?" Brelyna gasped. "They're bringing a dragon? Here!"

J'zargo's response was drowned out by a deafening roar that shook the foundation of the building they were on. There was a renewed outburst of panicked screams from the citizens of Winterhold, people yelling out cries to the gods and urging each other to run for safety. Brelyna stood up, ran down the steps of the inn, and looked up at the winged beast of destruction heading straight for the College.

"A dragon!" Aren shouted, still refusing to let this shock throw off his concentration. "You're insane!"

"It's just the next level of magical control," Decimius snarled back. "It is not our fault you are too weak and timid to embrace it!"

Ned and S'shani ran out into the courtyard as the dragon made its first pass overhead, shouting out a gust of flames that collided into the upper parapets, sending chunks of stone raining down onto the two of them. S'shani grasped Ned by the arm, pulling him close so as to be heard over the overwhelming din.

"Nedhelfin! You must activate the Eye of Magnus! It is our only hope to defeat this beast!" he shouted, the words sounding as if they were a very long way away. Ned gulped, but nodded.

"What are you going to do?" he screamed back, but he feared he had the answer.

S'shani held up his hands, revealing his sharp claws, and offered a pretty good attempt at a confident grin. "You were right, Nedhelfin. I spent too much time running, and hiding, and lying. It is time to embrace the truth, step into the light, and charge."

The dragon finished its swoop around the College towers, and began to head back towards the town, where dozens of civilians stood in panicked masses, a massacre waiting to happen.

S'shani ran to the edge of the courtyard, took a deep breath, and shouted. "JOOR ZAH FRUL!"

The power of his voice rippled through the air towards the dragon. It didn't seem to do any physical damage to it, but the beast spun around in mid-air, turning back towards S'shani, eyes glowing with bloodlust. It dove downwards as the Dragonborn dove out of the way, and landed heavily into the center of the courtyard, it's mighty tail smashing into the side of the Hall of Countenance, breaking through the stone and causing the entire building to slide sideways, collapsing over the edge of the cliff.

S'shani wasted no time, and lunged towards the dragon, grabbing hold of its wing and slicing into it with his claws. The dragon roared in pain and fury, and attempted to bat S'shani away with repeated flapping of its wings, but the Dragonborn held tight, raising into the air with the wing. He lashed his hand forward to make another slash into the sinew, and pulled himself towards it. In this manner, he began to scale the dragon, until finally he was on its back, clutching onto the thick, ancient scales for purchase.

Ned, who found this whole thing to be a bit too hardcore for him, ran as fast as he could back into the Hall of the Elements. He ran up to the Eye of Magnus, then realized one crucial flaw in the plan: how in Oblivion was he supposed to 'activate' this thing? For all he knew, it took super crazy Dragonborn powers, or at the very least, super crazy competent mage powers. Either way: totally out of his league.

The dragon let out another flame shout, melting all the snow in the courtyard and setting the brittle grass underneath on fire. It lifted up off the ground, S'shani still clinging to its back, slowly clawing his way up to the head. The dragon spun around the campus, furiously trying to shake its unwanted passenger loose to no avail.

"You can't hope to keep that thing controlled forever!" Aren shouted, holding up a magical shield as Decimius barraged him with an onslaught of powerful spells. "It's too unpredictable! It could cause catastrophic amounts of unintended damage!"

"You are too narrow minded, Aren!" Decimius yelled back, slowly stepping forward as he continued to fling fire and lightning at the battered arch-mage. "You think only in what you cannot do. It is why you allow such a miserable crop of nobodies into your midst! You just want to be left alone, giving no regard to the grandeur of what magic can accomplish!" Step by step, Decimius closed the distance. "Magic is not some bottle of wine, to be kept in a basement for decades, only occasionally dusted off and sipped at. It is to be imbibed, to let it flow through you, and used to do things you would never previously have dreamed to do!"

The two were now nose to nose, and Aren knew he had lost the upper hand. In his final moment, he looked at Decimius, not with anger or hatred, but with sorrow.

"You do magic a disservice," he said, "and I would rather die than live in a world where it is treated with such flippant abuse."

"Request granted," Decimius said, his face a mixture of mad delight and seething bloodlust. He held up his hand, a conjured sword appearing in it, and brought it downwards, severing the arch-mage's neck. His lifeless body collapsed to the ground.

Mirabelle Ervine, the arch-mage's second, screamed in horror as she saw this, losing her concentration; the mage she had been fighting over-powered her, and she too collapsed into the snow, her lifeless eyes gazing upwards at the slowly rising sun.

The surviving members of the College were beginning to lose hope. Urag gro-Shub finally managed to secure a victory, knocking Plinius down for the count, and pumped his arms into the air.

"Better death than servitude!" he screamed. "Fight on, brothers and sisters!"

He made a bee-line for Decimius, but was caught off; Brelyna Maryon charged into the fray first, raised her hands in the air, and with an ear-splitting scream cause an inferno to erupt around Decimius. He had been totally unprepared for such an attack, and screamed in agony as an endless torrent of flames spouted up around him, completely engulfing him. He felt his skin sizzling as the air was forced out of his lungs by acrid smoke; he flailed forwards, and collapsed onto the ground, wheezing in agony.

Brelyna stood over him, looking down at him with pity in her eyes. "Call off your men!" she shouted so all could hear her. "Surrender, and help us defeat the dragon before it turns on you!"

Decimius coughed violently, and pointed a hand at Brelyna. He gurgled out one word: "burn."

A sharp beam of heat shot out from his extended index finger, as he expended the last of his energy casting one final spell of revenge; his head lolled lifelessly on the ground as soon as it left his body.

Brelyna stared down certain death, her brain too numbed with shock to bring up a shield in time, when suddenly a blur ran in front of her, holding up a shield of his own. J'zargo took the full brunt of the spell and collapsed backwards on top of her.

"J'zargo!" she gasped, grasping the once more weakened Khajiit. At first he was completely limp in her arms, and she worried he had truly given his life this time. Then he peeked open one eye, and gave his usual sly grin.

"J'zargo expects many medals after this is over," he said, and slumped back onto the ground, unconscious.

Overhead, S'shani crawled up the neck of the dragon, which was shouting out blasts of fire at the town in rage. The stables exploded as a fiery swathe was cut right through it. Debris showered the town as people continued to make a run for the roads leading away from the town.

S'shani reached the top of the dragon's head, and slashed down with one free claw, slicing into the dragon's exposed eye. It roared in pain and began to wobble back and forth in the air, quickly losing momentum from the pain and confusion. He swiped several more times, then switched hands and attacked the other eye, fully blinding the beast. It continued to fly straight, which happened to be heading directly into the central tower of the College.

Ned stared up at the Eye.

"Open sesame?" he said. "Abra kadabra? Speak, friend, and enter?" He frowned as the Eye continued to float there, dull and lifeless. Maybe S'shani has used up all its energy?

Ned scowled, and held up his arm, palm open towards the Eye. He felt a fierce determination inside him. This had to work! S'shani was riding a dragon like a pony, Brelyna and the rest of his friends were in the middle of an actual war...he wasn't going to let everything be in vain because he couldn't activate a stupid sphere.

It had to work.

Suddenly, a jolt of energy shot out from the Eye and hit him in the palm. He blinked a few times, uncertain what had even just happened. Then, all at once, a stream of energy flew from the Eye, into him, then back into the Eye. He lifted his other arm, and felt the stream intensify. It was euphoric; so this is what real magical power felt like! The field of energy began to emanate once more from the Eye, slowly enveloping him as it expanded across the room, soon moving beyond the stone walls and once more surrounding the entirety of the campus. He didn't know how, exactly, he was doing it, only that it felt really, really awesome.

The Eye leapt back to life just in the nick of time; S'shani grasped the dragon's head and pulled up on it, causing a sharp turn against the field of energy; the belly of the beast scraped against the magical wall, charring away the soft flesh and causing sparks to fly up, like a sword hitting a grind-stone. The dragon screamed in renewed agony as it attempted to fly through the field, being met with nothing but blasts of pain shooting across its body.

The dragon began to dip precariously, beaten into a state of submission. S'shani stood up, holding out his arms for balance, and waited until he was appropriately close to the courtyard, and leapt through the air. He let forth a dragonshout that caused his very essence to become ethereal, and slipped through the Eye of Magnus' force field as the dragon flew straight into the cliff wall, dislodging an avalanche of stone that slid down with it to the ocean below, where it was buried once more.

The surviving members of the College of Winterhold let out a group cheer. Professors and students embraced warmly, and even gro-Shub couldn't help but let a victorious grin spread across his face. Many had died that day, people he considered close friends and brilliant colleagues, but he was an Orc, and as such knew what it meant to die a good death. That day they had fought for a cause worth dying for, and they had won.

The remaining few Synod were rounded up and bound. Gro-shub announced to those assembled that they would be brought to Windhelm and put on trial; the world had a right to know of the acts they had committed. It would not help the people of Skyrim's trust of magic users, but it would hopefully raise awareness against this kind of plot in the future.

Brelyna and Marence each grabbed an arm of J'zargo to string around their shoulders, and carried him back to the steps, where they propped him upright. Marence began applying a new round of healing to him, until gradually he woke up once more. He looked around a few times, and smiled.

"It would appear we were victorious," he said, sounding sleepy.

"Yes," Brelyna said. "You were great. We owe you a lot."

"Does that mean J'zargo can nap now without some pesky healer waking him up?" he asked, but he chuckled light-heartedly.

"Soon, but we really need to figure out all of what happened," Brelyna said. "You said that one of the Synod - a lady who found you just irresistibly handsome -" she figured the Khajiit deserved it. "She told you about the plot to bring the dragons back, and the attempt to control them. But then what happened? How did you end up stabbed?"

J'zargo squinted his eyes, as if straining his memory. "J'zargo saw S'shani, and he was surprised to see fellow Khajiit there in the ruins. J'zargo quickly explained what he had learned, that a dragon was being sent to Winterhold to destroy it. S'shani said he knew what to do, and that he would run off to handle it, and asked J'zargo to inform you and Nedhelfin what was going on."

"So S'shani came here to help stop the dragon," Brelyna said slowly. "But then...who stabbed you?"

J'zargo lifted a pale, weakened hand, and scratched his brow. "In truth, I am not sure. It looked to be a demon. He wielded two curved swords, and dressed as if he was a pirate. It sounds silly...perhaps I am hallucinating."

Brelyna shook her head. "I wouldn't put it past these Synod to consort with demons. Did it say anything?"

"No. It simply rushed up to me as soon as I was alone, I saw it thrust one of the swords towards me, and...that is all I recall."

"Hrm." Brelyna shared a glance with Marence, who looked as perplexed as she did. "I didn't see any such demon in the battle, did you?"

"Nope," Marence replied. "Demons are fickle things. Who knows where it could've decided to go?"

Ned ran out into the courtyard after he heard S'shani collapse back into the burnt, rubble-strewn ground. For some reason, the field generated by the Eye of Magnus continued to float protectively around the campus, despite the fact that he was no longer actively focused on it. It was as if some part of him had merged with the artifact, keeping it going for a while longer.

He intended to rush towards the prone Dragonborn, but there was a sudden fluctuation in the air, and Velehk Sain was standing over him, swords drawn, a derisive sneer running across his face.

"Very impressive," he said, his thunderously deep voice once more sending shivers down Ned's spine. "I don't know if I've ever seen such feats from a mortal. You deserve accolades."

He raised a booted foot and stomped on S'shani's neck, causing the Khajiit to yelp in pain and grasp at the boot with his hands, trying futilely to pry it off. "Of course, what you'll get is a painful death - but the world is hardly fair, now is it."

Ned ran forward, mustering a frost spell to throw at Sain. It disintegrated harmlessly as it hit his shoulder; the pirate king hardly seemed to notice. His eyes flickered towards Ned, and he raised a finger to the Bosmer. "Sit down, you," he said, and suddenly Ned felt his legs turn to gelatin, and he collapsed helplessly to the ground.

Sain raised his foot, and S'shani rolled to the side, coughing and spluttering. Sain began to move in circles around the Dragonborn, gently moving his swords through the air, as if they were pieces of driftwood riding the waves of the ocean.

"That Synod blow-hard did make me a very intriguing offer," he said, eying S'shani up and down as he continued to struggle for air. "Kill you, and work for them as a fearsome dragon rider, spreading terror and domination in their name. I enjoy every part of that idea, except for the bit where I bend my knee to mortals. Velehk Sain bows to no man.

"Still, the ability to control dragon's sounded like a new and fascinating way to pillage and maim, and if all I needed to do for that to be a reality was slay some pesky Khajiit called the 'Dragonborn,' then so be it. I tracked a Khajiit from this College, down to the ruins of Mzulft...but apparently, I impaled the wrong one." Sain let out a chuckle. "Amateur mistake. One I shall not repeat."

S'shani was finally beginning to stand once more. He rolled his shoulders, eyeing up Sain, mentally listing his options. Sain cackled, obviously enjoying the prospect.

"The Synod are dead. This College is mostly destroyed. All that stands in my way is you, Dragonborn. Then I shall use their secrets to burn a path straight across the heart of the world. How does it feel, knowing that your failure will cause pain and horror for so many?"

S'shani watched Sain very carefully for a moment, then took a deep breath. "ZUN HAAL VIIK!"

Sain was bracing for an attack, but while his body was hardly affected by the shout, the weapons in his hands appeared to be overtaken by lives of their own; they flew from his hands, skittering across the courtyard. One flew into a far corner, while the other slid to a halt by the comatose Ned.

"A-heh," Sain chuckled. "So, you want to make this a 'fair' fight? Reasonable enough, I suppose." He began to crack his knuckles, each one causing a thunderous boom. S'shani said nothing; simply held his ground, staring the demon head on.

Velehk Sain charged, and S'shani charged back. They met in a thunderous clash of violence, each exchanging a flurry of blows so rapid Ned could hardly comprehend what was going on.

Sain flung a right roundhouse at S'shani, which was blocked and countered by a straight punch to the chest. Sain absorbed the blow and shoved the arm away, tipping S'shani off-balance and landing a punch to his ribs. Each fighter had a punch as powerful as a battering ram, but bodies as sturdy as a reinforced wall. S'shani sent a quick wave of healing over himself and dove back into the fray, deftly parrying several incoming attacks and waiting for an opening to strike the pirate king down.

Ned began to wiggle on the ground, slowly realizing the life was returning to his body. He decided not to leap up too quickly; right now, Sain and S'shani were locked in such intense combat, any spell he cast would be just as likely to hit the Dragonborn. He could use this to his advantage, letting Sain think he was still paralyzed until the moment was right.

S'shani threw a punch that Sain grasped in his fist, slowly squeezing his hand as he bent the Dragonborn's wrist backwards. S'shani grunted in pain, but took a deep breath and shouted at Sain, causing him to slide backwards, collapsing onto the ground. Sain was quick to leap back to his feet, though he was beginning to look disheveled.

"And here I thought we were playing FAIR," he shouted, as he extended his own palm, hitting S'shani with a wave of force that flung him backwards into a stone pillar. He crashed into it with such force that it began to crack beneath him. Ned was relieved to see S'shani would not go down so easily either, as they once more charged into each other, renewing the flurried exchange of attacks.

Ned stretched his arm out and grabbed the sword that had landed nearby. There was no chance Sain was going to continue 'playing fair' - they needed to get the upper hand before he did. Sain and S'shani were slowly circling around each other, and Ned waited until the pirate king had his back turned to him - then he stood up and ran towards them, sword raised over his head.

He moved as silently as he could, Sain still facing away from him, and waited until he was close enough to bring the sword down on the demon's head-

When in a fluid motion, Sain brought his elbow back, crushed it into Ned's ribcage, grabbed the sword from his limp hands, muttered a cynical, "thanks," and swung it forward, impaling S'shani in the chest.

Ned watched, horrified, as S'shani's eyes widened in shock and pain, Sain driving the sword all the way through his body. In as swift a motion, the sword was pulled out, and S'shani stumbled for a moment before collapsing to his knees.

"Take heart, mortal," Velehk Sain said, standing over him. "I have lived for a very long time, and been undead a bit longer than that, and that was the best fight I've ever had. You deserve peace. You shall not live to see the new world I will create."

Ned cradled his cracked ribs, and tried to hobble forward. He shouted out in the hopes of distracting Sain, but to no avail. The pirate king raised his sword in the air.

S'shani closed his eyes, and a look of peace came across his face.

The sword came down, and S'shani collapsed backwards into the pool of red behind him, his light snuffed out.

"NO!" Ned screamed, and forsaking years of magical training, threw himself at Sain, attempting to tackle him to the ground. Sain flung him off, cackling.

"Really?" he said. "Really? You just saw easily the most powerful mortal in Skyrim fall before me, and you wish to fight now? What are you going to do, break your bones against me?"

Ned stood back up. His body exploded with pain, but he couldn't stop now. He couldn't just lay down and die, even though all hope was clearly lost.

Sain raised his hand, and hit Ned with a beam of energy that consumed his entire body. He could feel his energy being drained, his very life force getting sapped into his opponent. He took a few feeble steps forward, hobbled, and fell to his knee. He gritted his teeth and looked up at Sain, standing over him, cackling madly.

Ned could think of only one spell to cast.

He forced himself back up, and took one more step towards Sain, putting himself in arms reach. He was beginning to feel incredibly sleepy, but he fought off the urge to give in, and slowly lifted his right arm, index finger extended. He pushed it towards Sain, exerting more willpower than he ever knew he had.

"What is this?" Sain asked. "You wish to lay a hand upon a God, before he puts you down like the dog you are?"

Ned brought down his finger, tapping Velehk Sain on the arm.

He was floating.

No, he was sitting.

Or was he standing?

He slowly walked forward through the fog. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going, since there didn't seem to be anything in any direction. Just thick, rolling fog. He wasn't even sure if there was a floor beneath him or a sky above him. He could probably wander in those directions if he wanted, but for now, he continued going straight.

After a while, he noticed a figure walking beside him. When he realized who it was, he stopped and sat down. S'shani sat down next to him.

"So," Ned said. "We're dead."

"Well," S'shani replied, "you're half right."

"I can't believe it," Ned sighed. "I always knew I'd be a screw-up, but I never thought I'd actually doom the entire world."

"What do you mean?" S'shani asked, watching him with genuine concern.

"This is all my fault!" Ned wailed. "I killed the Dragonborn. You were supposed to save all of Skyrim, and I've gone and gotten you killed. Why are you laughing?"

S'shani grinned, and patted Ned on the shoulder.

"The world does not need a Dragonborn to save it," he said.

"Decimius and Sain both found out how to bring dragons back. What if others do?" Ned asked.

"Then brave people, like you, will rise up to do the right thing," S'shani said. "It is not what flows through your blood that makes you a hero. I had the blood of dragons in me, and I spent my life running and hiding. You - your blood is as ordinary as it could be, but I watched you repeatedly stand up against overwhelming odds and fight, tooth and nail, for what you believed to be right."

They sat in silence for a moment, before Ned said, "for what it's worth, I'm sorry. That you're dead."

S'shani waved this off. "Do not worry about me. You and the rest of the living have a long, arduous road in front of you. There will be times when it feels overwhelmingly difficult, and you will ask yourself, 'why is there not some hero to do this for me?'" S'shani stood up, and offered a hand to help Ned up as well. "It is in those moments that you must remember what a hero actually is."

Ned stood there and watched as S'shani began to walk off into the fog. The Dragonborn turned back to him one last time, and said, "I look forward to seeing you again, Nedhelfin - though hopefully that won't be for quite a while."

Epilogue

It was a surprisingly nice day. It was snowing, but it was always gods-damn snowing in Winterhold. (As part of a new, life-changing initiative, Ned had decided to simply ignore the second 'Hold' forever.)

When Ned had been awakened by the returning mages of the College, there had been nothing in front of him but a pile of ash and a few tattered pieces of old pirate garb. He had to hand it to J'zargo: that mistake of his made a hell of a spell.

As soon as Colette Marence had deemed him fit for travel, he commissioned a carriage from the people of Winterhold and went on a journey. First he went to Windhelm, but after asking around, was sent even further west, to Whiterun Hold. It was there he caught up with the traveling caravan of Khajiit who wandered the nine holds of Skyrim selling their sundry goods. He spoke with the leader of the group, a man named Ri'saad, and explained the situation to him.

The body of a Khajiit was in his carriage. The deceased was the bravest man he had ever known, and he would pay any sum to see to it that he was given a proper Khajiit burial.

Ri'saad smiled, and assured him he would not charge any cost for such a task, and would be honored to see his friend committed properly to the next life.

By the time he had arrived back in Winterhold, Brelyna Maryon and several other mages had made a trek of their own down to Windhelm, both dropping off the Synod prisoners, and requesting official assistance in rebuilding their utterly trashed campus.

A week later, they were set to return. Ned stood in the courtyard admiring the weather, enjoying the feel of snow on his persistently greasy hair, and watching as all present mages began to make their way into the Hall of the Elements. Urag gro-Shub had spread the word that there would be some big announcement in there as soon as the last mages arrived from Windhelm.

Ned watched with a smile as Brelyna and the others arrived, accompanied by a surprisingly large retinue of Windhelm guards and soldiers. At first he was worried this was another invasion force, but Brelyna appeared to be grinning happily.

"Hey," he said, as she approached.

"Hey," she responded. "Look at this! Jarl Stormcloak was amazing! He thanked us all for our service to Skyrim, and insisted that we take all this aid with his blessing."

Ned recalled word he had heard out on the road, about how the civil war between the Stormcloaks and the Imperial Legion was picking up with renewed vigor. He was sure the Jarl was just attempting to curry favors that he could call upon later - but hey, it didn't hurt.

"Well, come on," Ned said. "Gro-Shub wants everyone in the Hall of the Elements for some big announcement."

"Good," Brelyna said "We haven't had a College meeting since this all went down. We need some leadership, to figure out where to go from here. Honestly, though he's a bit gruff, I think gro-Shub will make a good arch-mage."

Ned grimaced a bit at the thought, but by this point they were in the main hall, where dozens of chairs had been assembled in neat rows. Ned and Brelyna sat down next to J'zargo, who still had a heavy bandage cloth wrapping around his midriff, and had been forced to use crutches to get around the past week. The Khajiit gave them a small wave, which they returned, before the Urag gro-Shub stood up behind the front podium and cleared his throat. When an Orc clears his throat, all chit-chat stops.

"This is our first official gathering as a community since the events last week. Already news of what transpired has spread - these things are bound to when there are that many explosions, and a dragon flies over-head. Colloquially, it's being called 'The Battle of Winterhold' - or, even more colloquially, as 'Those Damn Mages Are At It Again.'"

There was a slight chuckle from the audience, before the Orc went on.

"Many died that day. Friends, colleagues, teachers and students. Every death - from the arch-mage down - is deeply felt here at the College, where we are not ranked so much as we are equals, united as one by our love of learning, and of magic. That was the message this College was founded on, and that was the message these men and women fought for and died to protect. We must always respect the magic.

"As it stands, however, we find our numbers depleted, our resources scarce, and our organization lacking in leadership. I have heard many whispers that I plan to take over as arch-mage here, but I am an old man, a bit out of touch with the times, and I think, if that's okay with all of you, that I'd like to stay librarian until you wheel me out in a casket.

"I have talked it over with many of my close friends and colleagues here at the College, and we have agreed to pass leadership on to someone younger. Someone who has proven to have unending drive and devotion, a willingness to do what must be done, and a fierce respect and appreciation for magic."

Ned felt himself blushing, and began to stand up, acceptance speech already preparing in his head.

"Brelyna Maryon."

Ned quickly sat back down and joined in with the applause. Brelyna gasped, blushing furiously, and ran up to the podium.

"You will, of course, have our support and assistance," gro-Shub told her, shaking her hand. "But I think you will lead us well, arch-mage."

Ned felt - what was that? Genuine happiness? Pride? He smiled up at Brelyna. He knew, now, that things were going to be okay.

Brelyna said a few words, stumbling nervously over herself, but the students loved her and the professors supported her. When she was done, she came bolting over to Ned.

"Hey, congratu-" he began, before she embraced him and planted a kiss straight on his mouth.

A moment later, they broke apart, and he said, "-lations, uh, Brelyna."

"J'zargo is going to heave his lunch, he thinks," J'zargo said, making his way over with his crutches.

"Hey, J'zargo," cooed several female voices at once. News of the Khajiit's repeated injuries and acts of heroism had made him incredibly popular with the ladies.

"Ahh, that is my cue," he said with a wink, and hobbled off.

"Hey," Ned said. "I've been grievously injured too, where are my crowds of adoring fans?"

"A-hem," Brelyna said, glaring up at him as she grasped his arm.

"Oh, right," Ned said with a chuckle, ruffling her hair. "So, now what? A civil war is spreading across the entirety of Skyrim, the world continues to hate and distrust magic users, and dragons have come back for the first time in centuries. Looks like you've got your hands full."

"Yeah," Brelyna said. "But I've got good people working with me. I'm confident." She smiled at him. "Do you want to check out the lunch spread with me? I hear they've got a bunch of exotic cheeses."

"Eurgh," Ned muttered. "Why'd it have to be cheese?"