Dreams. I hate them so much. When they aren't bringing me through my past, they make no sense at all. Trying to find a hidden message usually makes my head hurt. It would be like if an artist were to set up a canvas, and toss any assortment of out-of-place concepts in an arrangement that only serves to make things more confusing.

I had a more understandable dream the night I slept at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood. It was nothing profound. It was only a memory of my life back in Cyrodiil, when I was 19 years old. This was back when the Legion was at peace, when my family was at peace, and when I was at peace. My father had sent me on a sort of training camp trip with a few other teenagers, a few friends included. I had few friends, and those that I had meant the world to me.

The one memory I relived was one of my favorite memories. One of my friends, a Breton named Rodryck, was especially competitive. He wasn't into field games, but he liked to race more than anything. I couldn't understand it. He could run with endurance that no one I know of has matched. If he could've ran any faster, you would be able to track his movement from the ruined terrain that would follow him. Why did this bother me?

"Hey, K, want to race?"

I always lost. Except for when I tripped him, which was whenever I got exhausted. That is the second thing I can remember about him. He was pathetically coordinated. Every time he'd challenge me to a race, I'd make him promise to do whatever I wanted him to do afterwards. We would climb up trees, jump through trees, and - my personal favorite - fall out of trees. Why was that my favorite? I never fell.

This is why, when I ran from the remains of my family back home, I ran with Rodryck on my mind. I remembered how he could run fast enough to out-speed the most powerful mage in Tamriel. I tried to make myself believe I had his power. That is when I was captured.

After lying in bed for perhaps an hour after waking up, I decided to get up and find out what that delicious smell was, coming from the inn hall. I approached Delphine, the innkeeper at Riverwood.

"Thanks for serving me," I said, "Hopefully I haven't been a burden."

"It's nothing. We get a lot of adventurers coming in from Cyrodiil, on their way to Whiterun. None of them are quite so kind."

"Oh," I glanced toward the oven behind the counter, "Thanks. What's the smell?"

She turned around and walked to the stove, "Jazbay Costrata. Normally, my assistant cooks and I attend the guests, but he's away in Markarth."

"Pardon?"

"You've never heard of the place? It's very ornate, and everything is made of stone and metal."

"That sounds like the Dwemer to me," I recalled from my lessons back home.

"Yeah, it was," she pointed out, "But if you know the Dwemer, you know how that turned out." She handed me a plate. It seemed like a very long time since I had slept in a warm bed and ate quality food, even though it had only been a day since I left home. Every little gesture of hospitality seemed foreign. I had expected none of it from Skyrim.

"Well, I hope I'll be lucky enough to go," I added, before digging in.

"Say, I have a bit of a question for you," she said, looking sheepish. "Don't take offense to me, but don't Khajiit avoid using 'I's?"

"You mean we use the third person? Yeah, I... get that. A lot."

"Interesting. It seems strange," she paused, "Then again, I haven't met very many Khajiit in my day."

"Neither have I."

As soon as I finished my breakfast, I decided it was time for me to continue, but not before stopping by the local smith.

Hadvar had instructed me to check in with Alvor for supplies and advice. After I explained my situation, he expressed concern.

"You'll need to speak with the Jarl. He has the power to send in troops," he said.

"How long of a way is that?" I asked.

"About as long as your trip from Helgen, but maybe a bit longer. You'll need better armor than that, though."

"Yes, this is basically secondhand ration, if you can even call it that." I looked down at my shabby Imperial outfit. "Do you have something better?"

"For a price? Yes, but I can make one exception for you." He jogged over to a storage house, and I followed out of curiosity.

When I walked in, I was greeted by numerous unorganized boxes of armor and weapons that seemed tossed in as they were found, like a pile that keeps adding up with no adjustment. No rhyme or reason. I cringed. Alvor stumbled from behind one pile with an iron cuirass. "It's nothing like what you'll find in Whiterun, but it'll get you past the local wildlife, and it's at least slightly more durable than city guard rations."

"That's just a cuirass..." I gestured.

"Oh..." he dropped the armor and retreated again.

I let out a heavy sigh, sat on the dirt, and drew circles in the ground.

The sun rose high above the valley. I could almost feel myself getting close to the city. I had that feeling since the moment I left Riverwood. My feelings aren't to be trusted, so nobody back home really listened to my advice.

I decided I would refresh my target practice skills by hunting deer. This was a problem for me back home because I would see a pretty tree, then stick it with an arrow. I wasted my father's time. I needed to find it within me to focus on my target.

THWACK

Bullseye. I just needed to find my dagger.

In the meadows leading to Whiterun's stables, the forest fringe was disturbed as I pulled a deer out of the brush.

Of all of the things I needed, he forgot give me a fucking DAGGER!

I eventually gave up dragging it and borrowed a dagger from a guard. I wrapped the meat in the pelt in hoisted it in a sack as I arrived at Whiterun. Along the home stretch, I heard a voice call to me from below, near a tent.

"Ah, Ri'saad has many useful items here from his travels! Why not take a look?"

I glanced down at the Khajiit below me, meeting his look. He looked rather small, but my perspective at the time deceived me. He had silver fur with striking emerald eyes that held my attention upon seizing it.

"I'm actually headed inside." I pointed behind me. "I'll stop by on my way back out."

"Hm. You are not from Elseweyr, are you, traveler?"

"Not... directly?" I was a caught off-guard.

"You do not speak as one often does."

"People seem to notice that a lot. What do you have?"

"Oh, healing potions, food, plants, and plenty to use for potion mixing," he paused, "and some enchanted jewelry if you are interested in such things."

"I'm sorry, I'll have to pass," I paused, trying to think of something to talk about. "What's interesting to you?"

"That is a very vague question." Ri'saad looked up towards the nearby mountain in thought. "Have you heard of the Greybeards?"

I was a bit puzzled by the question. "The who?"

"They use the power of the dragons to shout. It is almost like a spell, but with one's voice, and much more powerful."

The concept of shouting magic sounded oddly familiar. It was something recent, as I recalled. It was an ancient power, used to murder the High King in his very throne. Betrayed by one of his own. Betrayed by Ulfric Stormcloak. My father only spoke of it briefly, and refused to go into detail, although he clearly knew far more than he told.

"They know this power?"

"Yes, they taught it to Ulfric himself, although they did not know what would come of it." He stopped to look up at me. "It is said in legend that they shout through the skies if the Eight have sent down a spirit under the skin of a mortal. The Dragonborn, the ultimate dragon slayer." He gestured to the sky. "With all of this happening, this one hopes we hear something soon."

"I'm caught up in a lot of history already. I hope they find this Dragonborn person. What could he, or she, look like?"

"Nobody knows that. When - or if - this shouting occurs, the Dragonborn will have been discovered, and only the Dragonborn will know."

"Point taken." I shook my thoughts away. "I should get going."

"Please return soon!", Ri'saad called back.

The main street of Whiterun was lined with houses that reflected the city's location in the plains. The distinct wood frame and straw roof design was adopted by each building, with each district higher up on a plateau, with houses rising higher and higher until they hit the palace of the Jarl of Whiterun. Dragonsreach was perched at the tip of town, watching with a keen eye over the Jarl's people. As I approached it, the palace seemed to grow larger and larger, until I could no longer tell how tall it was.

Then, I realized I looked like an idiot standing at the door and looking straight up.

I pushed open the large doors to the palace's main hall. The room seemed larger than the building itself, with the shadows of the framework cast upward by low-placed torches. The pillars continued to the back of the room, where the throne stood against the wall with purpose, and Jarl Balgruuf the Greater himself sat slouched in thought. I walked along the two dining tables before being stopped at the steps to his throne.

"Stop! Do you have business with the Jarl?" the Jarl's housecarl asserted.

"I must speak for Riverwood," I said.

"All right, you may continue."

I turned towards the Jarl, angling my head up so as to not be disrespectful.

"My Jarl," I coughed, "I must report on behalf of the town of River-"

"Cut the formalities, traveler." Balgruuf's voice echoed in the theatre of a hall.

"Helgen was destroyed, by a dragon."

"Aye. We know," he interrupted, "We received word from a courier yesterday."

"Yes, and Riverwood is requesting some sort of assistance. The Dragon flew over the town afterward."

"I will respect their wishes and have a group of our guards patrol the town at once."

"Thank you, sir."

"It was also quite brave of you to come all the way up here. I will reward you with 350 gold septims!"

"Thank... you! Sir!"

What did I even do!? I only walked up here!

I couldn't complain. I just met a leader that I wasn't expecting to meet, entered a building I couldn't have been expected to enter, and was rewarded with hundreds of gold septims.

"You seem like a hardy fighter, given your armor, there," the Jarl pointed out.

"Do you have something for me to do? Sir?"

"Actually, yes. I believe our court wizard could tell you more."

A guard directed me into a room at the side. Behind a counter, a man was using what I recognized as an enchanting table to enchant a robe. I had only seen an enchanting table once before. Again, it was in a book back home. I had only a vague recollection of how to use them. He mumbled something about a stone.

I cleared my throat and said, "Excuse me? Are you the court wizard?"

"Farengar Secret-Fire, yes," he responded. "Has the Jarl sent you?"

"Yes. He said you needed something to be done?"

He looked me up-and-down. "I was expecting a guard to do this for me. What experience to you have? Any sort?"

I breathed in to recall. "My father lives at the White-Gold City, he's a legate. Uh, my mother is an alchemist and a mage, and I've carried a bit of that knowledge with me."

His presence seemed to lighten when I mentioned my mother. "Perfect! I need you to to grab something for me. It is something that simply fascinates me."

"Is this an errand?"

"An errand of historic proportions! Look here." He flipped through a tome and stopped his finger at a diagram. "The Dragonstone. I cannot tell you where I got this book, but it points at this stone being the key to understanding Dragons."

"It does sound pretty incredible, but what will I need to fight?"

"Oh, some... measly bandits, rats, skeevers. Maybe frostbite spiders, do you need a sword?"

"No, I'm carrying one right now." I was sure he hadn't expected me to have brute combat skill.

"Good, you'll be perfectly fine, then! And you know where it is?"

"Yeah."

"Incredible! You're the most useful person in Whiterun! Go on."

He spun back to his table, continuing his work on the robe. As overwhelmed as I was, I knew I couldn't turn down this task. I stopped by Ri'saad's camp to eat before a left, and I was beginning to enjoy his company. I left the sunny town of Whiterun and traversed the valley again, mulling over what I might find, and perhaps a bit excited at the prospect of discovering treasure.

Night had fallen on Skyrim by the time I had arrived at Bleak Falls Barrow. I bounded up the steps toward the legendary Nord stone arches. I inspected the stonework, felt its age through my fingers. The sense of mystery is one that could've only been imagined beforehand.

My feeling of mystery was smacked away by the sound of an arrow gouging a hole in the ancient stone. I quickly drew my hunting bow and unloaded my arrows into a group of wild bandits, who I had been expecting to be inside.

The stone ground beneath me was scratched arrow-after-arrow and I ran from one pillar to the next, moving closer and closer to the entrance as I knocked off each bandit. Soon, none were left, and I looted their arrow reserves. Trying to shake death from my mind yet again, I approached the iron entryway, and creaked open the front door.

The first room was a year away from becoming a pile of rubble. One support pillar had completely fallen, revealing a gaping hole in the ceiling. On the far side, two bandits had set up a kindling, and were speaking to each other. I glided through the shadows to dive behind some debris and listen in.

"So, we're just supposed to sit here while Arvel runs off with that golden claw?"

"That dark elf wants to go on ahead, let him. Better than us risking our necks."

"What if Arvel doesn't come back? I want my share from that claw!"

"Just shut up and keep an eye out for trouble."

I punctuated his sentence with an arrow through the throat, sending splatter across the face of the other. With a shocked delay of two seconds, he pulled out his sword, but couldn't find me. Two arrows to the torso did him in.

Making sure the coast was clear, I continued past the campfire, and into the next area of the tomb.

I guess "tomb" is the wrong word. "Complex" doesn't do it justice, either. I found myself winding around and through burial chambers, trap triggers and those ingenious Nord puzzles. Rows of crypts led forth to sparse treasure, which I pocketed in my knapsack. Thankfully, Ri'saad was sweet enough to allow me to keep my heavier things with him. I couldn't wait to tell him about the place.

If only I can make it out alive.

What made matters worse was when I began to see cobwebs. Cobwebs! Webbed hallways wound until they led to a large room with a dome of cobwebs overhead. I had just noticed the dark elf in the webbings across the room when a giant spider fell from the ceiling.

That isn't something one expects to fight.

The spider crawled up to me with surprising speed, salivating poison from its barbed fangs. I backed against the door and aimed my sword straight into the eyes, executing the giant spider and hopefully circumventing a very long and poisonous battle. Once the spider's legs lay limp on the stone floor, I ran across to cut Arvel from the web.

"Come on, cut me out of here!"

"Do you have the claw?"

"Yes, it's right here! I know how it works. The claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories. They all fit together, and if you let me down, I'll show you!"

I took my dagger from its holster and sliced through the slick threads, freeing Arvel, who immediately turned toward a hall and ran from me.

"I can't let you take the claw from me!"

He ran through the halls aimlessly. I must have chased him through dozens upon dozens of hallways. His aimlessness proved to be his downfall. He triggered a trap button on the floor, and long spears shot from the walls, skewering him. His remains fell to the floor when the spears retreated. I couldn't bear to watch, and pretended his body was a pile of pillows as I grabbed the claw and his journal from it.

After traveling through even more halls of crypts, I began to wonder how I would find my way out. I felt cold and alone, more than I ever had. I wished that I could have a warm spirit in my presence. I got what I wanted, as one of the decaying bodies on the walls stepped down and drew its sword at me.

Not knowing what to expect, I threw a lighting spell at it, sending it soaring down the hallway. I had never thought to use my mother's magic lessons again.

I'm so damned stupid, sometimes.

As I continued through the tomb, more of them appeared. Bodies of wilting skin and muscle continued to challenge me at every turn, making decent practice for me. Then one hall, a wide and cavernous area, was devoid of any sort of life. At the end was a large door with three symbols on wheels, with a slot to insert a claw in the center. I took out the claw and read the journal. I knew exactly what to do.

I spun the wheels into the correct combination of symbols, which the claw itself bore in its palm, and inserted the "key". The wheels suddenly twirled into new positions, and the door sunk heavily and ominously into the floor. I had reached the secret of Bleak Falls Barrow. I approached, and a powerful armored corpse burst out of its sarcophagus.

There was always something around the corner that I was not prepared for.

I dueled the decrepit warrior, stopping its greatsword short of my eyes with my own weapon of steel. Using all of the force I could muster, I pushed it back against the table with my sword. It returned and swung repeatedly, and before long, its tactics had become predictable. I looked back to where the stone floor dropped to a small stream. I manipulated its actions to move us closer and closer to the edge. As I had guessed it would, it swung overhand for my face. I blocked and pushed back again, and watched as it fell backwards into the stream. I used my lightning spell, and I missed, hitting the water and sizzling the overlord in its new final resting place.

Feeling a sweeping sense of relief, I turned back, and took in the enormity of the giant cavern. I retrieved the Dragonstone and piled hundreds of septims into a nearby sack, but froze when I saw a "U"-shaped wall scrawled with an unfamiliar language. Above this, the wall was etched with the image of a dragon. I looked down at the scratchy print, and found myself perplexed by what I was seeing. Just as I had looked over one word of the text, the letters began to glow blue, and ribbons of a mysterious energy began flowing into me. The waving bands of magic wrapped around my soul, absorbing some new power within me. Before long, they released their grasp on my heart, and I found myself greatly weakened. My legs failed me, and I struggled to catch my breath.

I had just found myself at the center of an even greater mystery.