"How do you suppose she's doing?" Keeper Carcette looked to Moric as she cleaned some dust off one of the tables.

"Who, Cura?" Moric asked as he was drinking his soup.

"No; Elisif the Fair." Keeper Carcette turned around and retorted sarcastically. "Yes, Cura!"

"Oh. Then, I'm sure she's fine, unlike Elisif." Moric responded in kind. "Seeing one's husband or wife blown to pieces..." he clicked his tongue. "...Stendarr have mercy."

"Tragic." Keeper Carcette admitted. "That Ulfric Stormcloak truly is a monster." She then held the cloth to her forehead and took a restful breath. "But we're not to involve ourselves in petty political squabbles."

"Of course, Keeper." Moric stated. "Though, I think Cura would be the oh one who could realistically fight Ulfric, since she too has the power of the Voice."

"Don't encourage her!" Carcette snapped. "You know that if you do, she will do it!"

"Cura is a freethinker." Moric stated. "Even in the brief time I've known her I could see that."

"Hmph. 'Freethinker'. She's going to get herself killed! I just know it! Why did I ever allow-" Keeper Carcette cut herself off as she hastily walked into Stendarr's Hammer in its display by accident.

"I don't think so." Moric argued. "You have no faith in the poor girl. The rules we live under don't apply to her. She is a Dragon. Let her be one."

"Don't insult her like that, churl!" Keeper Carcette chided him. "Dragons are awful creatures! I'm considering that we should classify them as Daedra and be done with it."

"We're aiding Whiterun with the Dragon menace, right?" Moric asked for clarification.

"Yes, per our agreement." Keeper Carcette stated. "We could put them out for a time, but we could never fully be rid of them. Only Cura could kill them permanently; hence why she could not be a Dragon."

"That's exactly why she is. Her Dragon soul absorbs the others, as preternatural and eerie as it may be." Moric said. "The local Nords have confirmed this, as well."

"Who cares of the opinion of savages?" Keeper Carcette was entirely opposed to the notion. "Whatever the case may be, I refuse to see Cura in the same light as those... hideous flying lizards."

"And she isn't a Breton either, but you're fine with treating her like one of us." Moric stated with a chuckle. "Albeit, she does look like one of our own, in all fairness. But with more pronounced Elven features."

"She is what our first ancestors were; the Manmeri. When the Direnni mixed Aldmer and Nedic blood." Carcette brushed it to the side. "And, I've raised her Breton. She may as well be."

"But she isn't." Moric insisted. "She is a Dragon, though, in Human flesh."

"She is one of us." Carcette insisted. "She has our Race's Dragonskin ability, as ironic as the name of it sounds pertaining to this situation. She is no Dragon."

"It's caused by the mixing of Human and Elven blood. The Highborn power of the Elves in Human blood causes it, I suppose." Moric pondered. "Just as the soul of a Dragon enables her to absorb other Dragons' souls. Something none of us can do." He rested his case.

"I hate you. Do you know that?" Keeper Carcette sneered at him, stunning Moric lightly. "You always do this."

"Do what, speak the truth?" Moric asked defensively. "You should try it sometime, Carcette."

The Keeper's jaw dropped. "What are you trying to say?"

"Stendarr hates hypocrisy and false judgment." Moric reminded her. "Someday he'll show you just how much. Watch yourself, Keeper."

The Keeper fell silent, and, eyebrows lapsed, left the main hall and headed to her room.

Moric continued to eat his soup, which had now grown cold, much to his annoyance. He, like most of the Vigilants of Stendarr, only saw the forest for the trees.


In the meantime, Cura and her party roamed the wilderness on horseback, but all was not silent, for Inigo loved to improvise his own songs.

"My friend and I are warriors brave, this entire world we can save!" Inigo sang at the top of his lungs. "To mess with us is to stare at your grave, before us you are naught but a knave! Dum-de-dede-de-de-dum-dee-dee-doooo-yah! Yeeeeeaaaah..."

"Can someone please shut this Cat up?" Lydia snapped. "Preferably before he drives me crazy, please?"

"I don't know about that," Mjoll laughed. "he's quite amusing, I think."

"Inigo, do you know Ragnar the Red?" Cura asked him as she whisked around a couple of trees.

"Is that a request?" Inigo asked, excited.

"A proposal for a duet?" Cura tilted her head with a smile. She loved that old tune.

"Let's do this!" Inigo laughed eagerly.

Cura cleared her throat and Lydia blocked her ears, and nearly lost her balance on the horse in the process.

Immediately, the two sang in tandem.

"Ohhhhh,

There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead!

And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade, as he told of bold battles and gold he had made!

But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red, when he met the shieldmaiden Matilda who said..."

Mjoll joined in for the next verse.

'"Oh, you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead! Now I think it's high time that you lie down and bleed!'"

Then Lydia resigned and chimed in for the sake of it.

"And so then came clashing and slashing of steel, as the brave lass Matilda charged in full of zeal!

And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no mooooorrree... when his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!"

Immediately the group began to cackle from amusement.

"A fine, but bloody tale indeed." Mjoll exclaimed.

"When a duet becomes a cacophony." Inigo remarked. "But Lydia will have to work on her singing. She sounds like a dying Warbler."

"Why, you-grr..." Lydia grumbled.

"Calm down, Lydia. He's only kidding." Cura laughed.

"No, actually I am dead serious." Inigo stated. "I have heard Mudcrabs with nicer voices."

"Stop the horse. I'm going to murder him." Lydia threatened.

"Enough fighting, you two." Cura chastised.

"My apologies, my Thane." Lydia lowered her head. "But do we really have to take him along with us?"

"Inigo wants to help." Cura explained. "I've allowed it, case final."

"Fine." Lydia relented. "But still, I don't like it."

Soon they left the frozen southernlands of the Pale, and continued Westward, dodging Wolves and Frostbite Spiders, mostly.

Soon enough, according to Cura's map, they were near the ruin of Ustengrav. A chill moved the air around them.

Ustengrav was a medium-sized Nordic ruin burrowing into the ground from its circular entrance above, like a pit with a flight of stairs descending into the earth.

There were two bandits outside by the camp standing around as if in a fog, and the corpses of two more were lain out in the grass nearby, around the small bonfire. When Cura slowly approached the campsite, sensing that something was off, the living bandits turned out to be merely zombies of a Necromancer, who quickly raised one of the dead bandits and sent all three at Cura.

The group made quick work of them, and dispatched the Necromancer with ease, allowing him to join the ranks of the dead.

Mjoll stated downwards into the Crypt. "If there's one thing I'm certain of, it's that draugr burn like tinder. We could use that to our advantage."

"I have Flame spells." Cura stated. "...And Dawnbreaker, as well." She held up the burning ebony blade.

"Wow, it's shiny!" Inigo exclaimed. "Where did you get that?"

"It's a long story. I could tell you about it sometime." Cura shrugged as she went ahead and descended the stairs.

As they entered the main area of the interior, it seemed that Bandits have occupied the ruins, and the group saw many of the deceased strewn about, with warlocks as well. There was a dead bandit to the right, and human bones to their left with an iron battleaxe among the bones. There was another dead bandit near the bottom of the stone carved stairs some distance away. There was a dead Warlick beside him, missing his left arm. There looked to be many casualties between the rival groups, as blood stained the walls and floors.

The ongoing battles have alerted the Draugr, who have begun to slaughter both groups.

"Don't stop them, Cura." Mjoll insisted. "Let the Draugr clean up the mess."

Inigo shivered, as if struck by an awful memory. "Eugh... Draugr... I hate these places so much... why are we here?"

"Because the Greybeards need me to get the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller." Cura restated.

"Sigh..." Inigo sighed. "Fine, but only because we are friends will I do this."

Inigo quickly knocked an arrow and fired it through the head of a Draugr, alerting the others.

"YOL TOOR!" Cura shouted, creating a torrent of fire, which consumed the Draugr and Warlocks, and immolated the corpses of those nearby.

Inigo jumped up and down with excitement. "I love it when you do this!" He exclaimed.

"Truly impressive." Mjoll admitted as she looked on in awe.

"Shall we press onwards?" Cura asked as she began to move ahead proudly.

The tunnel they walked through opened to another short corridor occupied by four Draugr. It seemed that another two Warlocks have engaged in a fight with them.

The Warlocks finished off the Draugr in time for Mjoll's battleaxe to cleave the first in half, and Lydia's sword met the second one. So far, so good. Cura was beginning to feel much less overwhelmed compared to her last few expeditions.

In the first stone alcove to the right by an iron brazier were two healing potions, which Inigo wasted no time in grabbing. "Not that I do not trust your magic, friend, but potions are reasonably good to have, especially when we are at a distance." He said to Cura.

"It makes sense, Inigo." Cura admitted. "Maybe when next I see Keeper Carcette, I'll have her teach me Grand Healing, so I could heal us all in one go."

"She hadn't taught you that already?" Lydia asked Cura, bewildered.

"No." Cura responded frankly. "Probably because there hasn't been much time for it."

"Or because she planned to keep you posted at the Vigil." Lydia stripped the bandage off.

"Yes... that too." Cura admitted.

Through the door to their left were two rooms filled with urns, one to the west and one to the northeast. The western room held six large, golden urns, one burial urn, one broken urn with dust spilled out of it, a chest, and another healing potion. "You know, I wonder what the dead would need with these healing potions, since they're... well... dead." Inigo laughed it off.

In the broken urn were two additional potions, Mjoll discovered. "Magicka and True Shot." She threw the Magicka potion to the resident Breton, and the Potion of True Shot to Inigo, the Archer.

The northeastern room contained twelve large urns filled with coin that Inigo gleefully looted, two burial urns, a canis root, and a chaurus egg inside of a cast iron pot on the countertop of the shelf nearby. Cura looked at the back of the shelf and found, as labelled; a 'Potion of Minor Healing', a 'Potion of Health', a 'Draught of the healer', and a copy of the Restoration book 'Mystery of Talara, volume 2.' "I feel as though I'm being put out of work." Cura said with a light-hearted chuckle. "Who knew Draugr were into Healing Arts? The Mystery of Talara? Really? How did they even get this?"

"Maybe they looted them from the corpses of intruders." Mjoll proposed.

"Or the warlocks brought them in before Bandits attacked them and led to the slaughter we just witnessed." Lydia proposed.

Inigo crept up behind the Nord woman."LyDiAaaaa..." he said in a deep, growling voice as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Wah!" Lydia screamed. "Don't do that!" She chastised him.

"Sorry." Inigo apologized, though quite unconvincingly. It was clear that he got an impish thrill out of it, and this was only the beginning.

Cura stifled a laugh as she continued through the halls. She hadn't realized how much she really needed this levity until Inigo came along.

The group could smell the musk of dirt and earth around them, mixed with stale and fresh blood and rot both.

"Why do we always wind up in disgusting places like this?" Lydia bemoaned. "Why?!"

"It's almost as if this is what we were born to do... depressing." Inigo remarked as he stuck his sword into the face of a Draugr that was lying in wait against a wall, pretending to slumber.

"Will the two of you stop complaining?" Mjoll commanded. "It hasn't been that bad! Stop being a couple of Milk-Drinkers. Lydia, I would expect better from a Nord!"

"Hey, get me a good fight, and then I'll stop moaning." Lydia twirled her sword in hand as she continued to trail beside Cura.

Continuing east through the hall and then south along the short stony path before them, the quartet came upon a partially-hidden wooden staircase to the right just before the next large room. There was a stone table in the room below the stairs. Inigo gleefully obliged, and unlocked it, and came out of it holding eighteen loose gold coins and an Ancient Nordic Mace. "How about this one?" He showed it to Cura.

"Hmmm... No. No, I think I'll stick with my own." Cura insisted, and Inigo pocketed it anyways in the event of a change of mind, should it happen.

"Come to think of it, it is strange that the weapon selection seems to be tailored to my style..." Cura observed. "Maybe it's some kind of sign..."

"That Stendarr is looking out for you?" Lydia asked with a humouring scoff.

"Maybe." Cura entertained the idea. "Possibly."

To the left of the table on the wall was a pull chain, which revealed a secret passage that led to a room with a chest. Mjoll maneuvered around a couple of pressure plates. "Ysmir's beard! I think the girl may be onto something." She quickly hurried back to the group with some jewels, and an Amulet of Stendarr that she had found in the chest.

Cura fell silent and stared at the Amulet.

A coincidence?

No.

Definitely a sign that she was following her correct path. Go forth, with Stendarr's blessing, young Vigilant. She could almost feel.

Emboldened, Cura headed forwards.

The last room in the zone held a narrow, two-levelled chamber with a balcony resting overhead. As Cura approached, a Draugr bursted from its sarcophagus to her right, earning him a smashed skull.

Another that was already patrolling the far side of the room was alerted by the ruckus, only to receive an ebony arrow through the nose.

Another slumbering draugr was resting in a chair, only to be divided by Mjoll with a loud roar, and a dead draugr lay by the first of three alcoves on the right side of the room.

There was an iron battleaxe by the middle alcove, leaned against the wall, and an iron helmet was within the last alcove, perched on a slab of stone.

The stairs up to the balcony were at the far end of the room. Cura was quickest to climb while Lydia slugged along in her steel armour, slowing Inigo and Mjoll behind her down.

A stone bridge led to an Ancient Nordic door, which led to the Ustengrav Depths.

Cura found a large coin purse by the door and pocketed 200 gold before heading down into the depths.

As she descended the stairs into the depths of Ustengrav, there was a large, crumbling hole in the wall to her right providing a view of the main chamber, with an iron sword on the floor nearby.

What Cura saw was nothing short of incredible. A large ceiling opening and lush greenery abounded the chamber, much like an open mine. It was anointed with gentle light, and the smell of grass and trees were much welcome.

Farther down the stairs, where the wall opened to reveal another view of the main chamber, was a patrolling Draugr. Inigo sniped him from afar, eliminating the threat when Mjoll scouted ahead.

"The horn had better be worth it. This place is unpleasant." Inigo shuddered.

Cura nodded. "I don't like it here, either. Stay sharp." She wanted to make sure nobody would be seriously harmed; not for her sake, especially.

"OK, my friend. We will protect each other!" Inigo reassured her. "The sooner we find the horn, the sooner we can get out of here."

An ancient Nord bow lay near a lantern and an unused iron brazier. On a rocky ledge just over the wall that the lantern sat upon was a Banded Iron Shirld. Mjoll decided to leave the arms in place, as it was out of her reach, and she was content with her Hunting bow that she had sentiment towards.

Down the stairs was an ore vein looking to contain iron on the southwest wall. Lydia gestured towards it, but realized they had no path forward was to the left of the vein, but when Inigo rushed hastily, he activated a tripwire. Knowing what wascoming, Cura yanked him by the back of his collar before a barge could swing down and crush his face.

"Wow, that was too close for comfort." Inigo exhaled. "Thanks, friend. I hope to repay you someday."

Cura nodded. "It's fine, just keep your eye out for future traps; I just got you on my team, and I don't intend to lose any of you!" She slowly released the Khajiit and sidestepped around the hung trap.

Mjoll scouted ahead once more, where she noticed that there was a rise in the terrain. There were four pressure plates on the ground, two of which were revealed to be flamethrower traps. Mjoll stepped on one by mistake and was quickly scorched by the fire. Thankfully, Cura was quick to the draw, and used her Healing Hands on Mjoll, thus avoiding any permanent injury as they ran through the flames. Inigo realized that the traps could easily be safely bypassed by staying to the left and avoiding the sensitive plates to begin with, as only the two right-hand plates seemed to be traps as evidenced by Lydia recklessly running over them. Farther along, the path appeared blocked by some rubble, frustrating the Group.

Cura took a turn to her right and headed through another passage haphazardly.

"I cannot wait to see this horn!" Inigo exclaimed excitedly. "It must be a magnificent thing to behold."

"Which is exactly what your parents didn't say when you were born, I'm sure." Lydia sneered sardonically at Inigo.

He gave her a tilt of the head and a smug, knowing smile. Okay, if she wants to play like that, that's how they'll play.

"At least my parents had the awareness to teach me how to socialize with others." Inigo scoffed.

"No fighting, you two!" Cura ordered. "We've got things to deal with right now!"

Inigo and Lydia begrudgingly obliged.

Draugr patrolled this new chamber: one in the main area, and another on a dilapidated stone bridge on the other side of the room. Across the bridge were some stairs leading in a coarse circle down to the lower level. The bottom level of the room had a long, extended dining table to the right of the lower entrance, five stone tables along the left-hand side of the raised platform parallel to the group, two tables to the right in front of a throne with a corpse seated atop it, and one more table and a large, golden urn on the other side of the platform. Along with some old, rotted food, the tables to the left had some Jazbay Grapes, a clump of Charred Skeever Hide, a branch of Lavender, and a Wilted Purple Mountain Flower. Adead flower was always a sad sight to see. There were some more consistent and rotted food items on the tables by the throne, and a small branch of Wheat on the far table, not that it was doing much better.

Before Inigo could plug the first Draugr with an arrow, Mjoll beat him to the punch, slugging it in the left eye and taking it out.

Cura snuck across the stone bridge and headed into a room to the east that turned out to be approximately identical to the length of the main room, with doors on both sides. There was another chest and two potions of minor healing in this eastern room. Cura pocketed the potions greedily before turning around to face a Draugr, who Lydia impaled from behind, causing its black, rotten blood to spray on Cura's robes.

"Eugh!" The Breton cried out in disgust.

"Are you all right, my Thane?" Lydia asked with mild concern.

"I was until that happened." Cura gestured towards the liquid death staining her robes. "That's going to be there forever, now."

"Sorry." Lydia apologized.

After climbing stairs exiting the lower level to the south, they crossed the other bridge, where they found a path that returned them to the tunnel on the other side of the blockage. The next room was barren, but to their left was another small room. The entrance to the small room was blocked by two gates, which were raised by two separate handles. One handle was beside the gates, simple enough, but the other was beside a sarcophagus parallel to the gated door.

"If I were an Ancient Valuable Horn, I would not appreciate being stored here." Inigo remarked as he mildly shuddered. "I hope the Greybeards appreciate this."

When Lydia approached the sarcophagus, a Draugr pushed open the lid and arose quickly, startling the warrior. Quickly, she cleaved off its head before it could exit. There was an oil slick between the sarcophagi that Cura ignited, immolating and obstructing oncoming Draugr from down the hall The group opened the gates and headed into a small vestibular room. The small room was remarkably different from the others, holding a distinct arcane enchanter, a chest, a potion of healing, an empty Common-sized Soul Gem atop the enchanter, and a potion of Stamina.

Mjoll turned to Cura. "Do you know anything about enchanting?" She asked out of curiosity.

"I do," Cura began. "would you like me to apply a flame enchantment to your battleaxe?"

"My bow, actually." Mjoll insisted as she took out her Hunting bow. "Maybe fire, lightning... whatever you like."

Cura nodded. "Well, since I only have a Common Soul Gem to work with, the enchantment won't be that potent. Are you sure?"

Mjoll thought about it some more. "Aye, I guess I should wait. I wouldn't want to waste this good bow. It holds many memories for me. Don't wanna have to replace it later on."

"Of course." Cura nodded in understanding. She knew very well the value of a keepsake.

]

"Patrolling skeletons." Inigo warned as he pointed to a stone path to the left that had collapsed and led down to the main room. There, they noticed three skeletons patrolling this open chamber, swords in hand, and another two patrolling a raised walkway along the southern and western walls.

"They're everywhere!" Lydia exclaimed, a chill running up her spine.

"I'll take out the ones further off." Inigo suggested. "Cura, your mace will make short work of the ones up close."

"I have a better idea!" Cura tan ahead, alerting the undead. The skeletons lined up and rushed towards her, their backs to the chasm below.

"FUS RO!" Cura blasted the walking bones off the pathway, down the large drop.

However, she failed to notice the one last skeleton sitting in the throne in the northwest corner, which she had awoken.

Before it cod stab her in the back, Inigo leapt down and slashed at it, though the bones proved resilient.

Cura finished it with a clubbing of her mace, scattering the broken limbs.

"Nice shot!" Inigo exclaimed. "It will torment us no longer!"

Cura nodded and continued onwards as Mjoll slayed the skeletons in the distance with well-launched arrows. Cura was beginning to think she may have been a huntress at some point in her life, hence, 'the Lioness'.

The stairs up to the walkway were to the left of the entrance in the room's southwest corner, and at the top was another flamethrower trap. A dead draugr lay across the trap, keeping it in a state of convenient perpetual activation. There are seven tiles on the ground by the trap, and the safe path was straight through the center row. The quartet advanced with caution.

By the first quarter of this new chamber were a row of large, cracked pillars that were once connected to lead across the chamber, but the walkways between them have collapsed by the winds of time and stagnance.

Dropping from the ledge, Cura hit the bottom of the chamber. To her northeast was a corundum ore vein on the same level, while from the alcove, along some descending ledges to the north and past a dead Draugr, was a silver ore vein, with another dead draugr around the corner after the vein. She was regretting not having brought a pickaxe.

Then she heard it; the faint sounds of voices chanting and whispering to her. It was very familiar. As she followed the sound around large stones and shrubbery, she saw a Word Wall, now clearly visible.

"NONVUL BRON DahMaan DaaR ROT FIN

FODiiZ BORMah-Nii LOS HeyV DO ENOOK

MUN WaH LahNey VOTH ahKRIN ahRK ZIN

LEH ROK FeiM VODahMIN KOTIN VULOM"

"Noble Nords; remember these words of the hoar father - It is duty of each man to live with courage and honor lest he fade unremembered into darkness." Cura translated intuitively. Even she was becoming impressed at this point at how easy this was. She hadn't even learned to speak the Common Tongue with this amount of ease growing up.

"Feim." Cura repeated the word that stood out to her. "Fade."

To fade is to become less, to diminish. For one to diminish, all around them must increase. Such is the way of the unfaltering faithful.

Cura cleared her throat. "FEIM!" Immediately, she felt the world fading out around her, as if held under a thin veil.

"My friend! You are a ghost! Nooo! You should not have jumped so far down!" Inigo cried out as he and the others caught up.

Lydia looked on in horror and Mjoll was confused with wonder.

"Huh?" Cura looked down at her hands, which were now ethereal. Her body became transparent.

Inigo went forward to poke her, and his hand went through her nonphysical being.

"I am sorry for failing you again!" Inigo began to sob. "I am such a failure-"

"Calm down!" Lydia scolded the Khajiit. "She's alive! It's just a Thu'um trick."

On cue, Cura faded back into their world, which gave Inigo great sense of relief. Quickly he wrapped his arms around her on tight embrace. She gently Pat him on the head. "Don't worry; Lydia is right. I'm all right; I just learned a new word, is all."

"Oh... okay!" Inigo released her.

"It's incredible how words could have so much power." Mjoll mused. "I've never seen anything like it before!"

Cura nodded. "Neither have I until a few months ago. I wonder what more there is to learn..." She began to move. "Guess I'll find out, won't I."

There was a dirt path behind the word wall that circled back up to the throne chamber. The earthen bridge to the east brought the party to the final part of the large main chamber, where three stone posts stood in a triangle, with a series of closed gates blocking the door straight ahead.

Inigo stepped near a stone, and it lit red, making him jump, as well as opening a gate. "Ooh! This looks like a fun little game!" he exclaimed.

Immediately, the gate slammed shut again.

It did not take long for Cura to deduce what this was about. " I'm guessing each stone activates one of the three gates blocking the path ahead, but on a very short timer." She pondered. "I'm going to need you all to activate each one so I can dash across... maybe my Whirlwind Sprint will get me there in haste."

"Say no more." Mjoll said as she walked over to the first, then Lydia to the second, and Inigo to the third.

The gates all opened and Cura shouted. "WULD NA KEST!" With an explosive shattering of the sound barrier, she blasted through the triad gates, which closed right behind her.

"Oh, no!" Lydia bemoaned. "How are we supposed to follow you through there?"

"You can't. This was what Arngeir meant about staying true to the Voice." Cura realized. "However..." She noticed a pull chain on the wall, and, after giving it a firm tug, she opened all three gates. "...that works."

"You are just full of surprises!" Inigo exclaimed with glee as he caught up.

At the top of the stairs past the gates was a room with the entire floor covered in flamethrower plate traps. "Boy... they really do love their boobytaps, don't they?" Lydia remarked anxiously as she sidestepped a few.

"Aye, but if you think the Ancient Nords are bad, you haven't seen the worst the Dwemer have to offer." Mjoll reported. "I've had suc hthe misfortune of stumbling into their traps, and they make these look like child's play."

"What kind of traps do the Dwemer specialize in besides Ballistas?" Lydia asked.

"Well, there are spinning blades that come up from the floor and move along a belt, there are steam blasts, large constructs, and much, much more." Mjoll recounted some past horrors, which also caused Lydia to cringe.

"Do you hear that, my Thane?" Lydia asked. "Apparently in Nchuand-Zel, we were lucky."

Cura shrugged. "I felt that way once we left it, honestly." She hurried ahead, past the deadly traps, skimming along the left side of the path and hopping on the collapsed stones that lay over some as she went. Soon she discovered that none of the pressure plates on the raised section worked. "It's safe up here! Come on!" She gestured for the others to follow the path she tread.

The group traversed the area by continuing straight, jumping over the piles of rubble and leaping into the next room, where they found safety in traversing a small set of steps. It was immediate that they realized the whole place was covered in thick webs. From the ceiling descended two medium-sized Frostbite Spiders and a Giant Gray Frostbite Spider.

Cura pushed her friends back and inhaled, leaning back a little. The group knew what was coming.

"Do it!" Inido cheered.

"YOL TOOR!" Cura engulfed the arachnids in a torrent of draconic flame.

The exit to the east was blocked by two thick spider webs, which Cura's Fire Breath disintegrated with ease.

"Bye, bye, Spiders!" Inigo waved enthusiastically.

"...So... why did you bring us along, again?" Lydia scoffed.

"Well, you insisted on coming along," Cura reminded Lydia. "they want to help, and I still could use it."

Mjoll nodded. "And it is a pleasure to see the Dragonborn this close up. Lead on!"

Cura headed to the door and pushed it open.

Beyond the exit was a short tunnel past the door. On observation, it led to a closed gate. A pull chain to the left of it activated the gate when Lydia quickly yanked it without a second's thought.

There was a large chamber with a narrow pathway in the center of what seemed like an indoor lake, with many spires coming up out of the water next to the path. As Cura set foot on the pathway, the room began to quake. This prompted the group to pick up the pace. Passing the spires caused large stone statues that seemed to resemble Dragons' heads to emerge from the water on both sides of the room, paralleling each other like gates of passage.

"This is the resting place of Jurgen Windcaller..." Mjoll noted when she saw a sarcophagus at the end with a very ornate design on it. Her eyes lit up with wonder. "I had only heard tales of this in legends as a child."

"So... where is the horn?" Cura asked, scratching the back of her neck.

"It should be on the hand above the coffin." Mjoll stated.

There were two burial urns in front of the coffin which Inigo looted for Flawless Amethysts and a Sapphire, and a mysterious note in the stone hand at the top of the sarcophagus.

Cura grit her teeth in annoyance. What was this note about? She hoped to Stendarr that Bandits hadn't come in and stolen it. With the dead Draugr and alert security systems, she should have seen this coming. A silent fury consumed the Breton. She went through all that only to be slapped in the face with this?

She wrested the note from the stone hand and pored over it.

"Dragonborn-

I need to speak to you. Urgently.

Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you.

-A friend"

A friend? If they were such a friend, why could they not leave the note with the Horn? Cura irritatedly pocketed the Note. "Damn it." She hissed.

"What's wrong?" Lydia asked her. "Is that a ransom note?"

"Yes, and no." Cura stated. "It's a request from a 'friend' to meet in private. I suppose they're insinuating that if I don't I will never get the Horn."

"What a bother!" Mjoll sneered angrily. "After all we went through... such a shame. We could have had our glorious triumph right here."

"And I do not trust this Note." Inigo stated. "It is too convenient. How would this person know that you would be coming here for the Horn?"

"I suppose it fits with the Dragonborn Mythos..." Cura pondered as she continued heading for the exit. "I guess I'll be going back to Riverwood. Let's get this over with." The exasperation was clear in her voice. She wanted to get this nonsense over with, and earn an explanation for it all.

"Good idea!" Inigo remarked. "My feet will thank you for it."

Quickly, Cura used her Fast Travel ability once the group was joined together, and they arrived to the Sleeping Giant Inn's entrance, in the dead of night. Cura pushed the door open and walked into the desolate establishment, where she saw the unfortunately familiar face of the snarky Breton woman, Delphine. Something about her didn't sit right with Cura, and she seemed quite familiar moreso than just as an Innkeeper. Where else did she see her before?

Inigo went over to a chair and plopped down in it. "Aah! Much better!"

Mjoll took a seat, as well, and Lydia followed Cura up to the counter, where they saw Delphine arguing with Orgnar, the Barkeep.

"You are going to brew a new batch of ale, right? Like we talked about? What we have's been sitting in that barrel for over a month." Delphine snapped at the lazy Nord.

Orgnar sluggishly responded, nearly falling asleep on the bar counter. "Yep."

"Wait, let me guess. You'll get to it later." Delphine snarked, placing her hands on her hips impatiently.

Orgnar raised his head a little. "Don't I always?"

Delphine leaned forward. "I don't suppose I could convince you to take care of it now, could I?"

Orgnar shook his head and draped his washcloth over his head to cover his face as he began to drift off to sleep. "No."

Delphine sighed in defeat. "Well. There's something to be said for honesty, I suppose."

Cura glared at Delphine for a few moments, studying her face, and this caused the Innkeeper to become ill at ease. "What, do I have an arrow in my head?" She asked rudely, before realizing who this was. "Oh, you're that visitor, been pokin' around."

"I'd like to rent the room in the attic." Cura said plainly, and the smug demeanour of the older Breton's changed into one of shock, then forced calmness.

"Attic room, eh? Well... we don't have an attic room, but you can have the one on the left. Make yourself at home." Delphine gestured to the room on the west side of the small tavern, and Cura nodded in comprehension. She festured for Lydia to have a seat with Mjoll and Inigo while she dealt with this.

Then it hit her.

The Dragonstone! Farengar! Dragonsreach. Of course she had seen her before!

Who was this Innkeeper, really?

Cura entered the small room and Delphine followed her, as Innkeepers do. "So you're the Dragonborn I've been hearing so much about. I think you're looking for this." She moved the dresser to the side and revealed an old, ornate-looking beige warhorn.

"The horn of Jurgen Windcaller." Cura mused. It was actually plainer than she imagined. You're the one who took the horn?" It was hard to believe, but so very fitting.

"Surprised? I guess I'm getting pretty good at my harmless innkeeper act." Delphine laughed lightly. "We need to talk. Follow me." She gestured for Cura to accompany her as they left the small room and headed past the bar to the parallel door on the other side. Cura reluctantly followed, and gestured for her allies to stay put for the moment.

"What do you want?" Cura asked her genuinely.

"Not here. Follow me." Delphine scolded. She was very clandestine in operations.

Delphine walked past the bed in the small room and walked over to the closet against the right wall, which she then pushed a button on its interior which revealed the back panel to be a secret door leading to a staircase that headed further down. "Close the door." She instructed Cura, who obliged, cutting the room off to the outside.

Cura was beginning not to trust this. It was a little suspicious. With some hesitation, the younger Breton followed the elder down the stairs, her hand near the handle of her mace in the event should things turn ugly.

There was a small room with a large map sprawled on the table with markings all along the province of Skyrim, bound by a dagger on the corner. A Book of the Dragonborn pinned down the other side of the map.

Delphine began. "The Greybeards seem to think you're the Dragonborn. I hope they're right."

Cura raised an eyebrow. If anyone were qualified to make such a call, it was the Greybeards. "The Greybeards are right. I am Dragonborn." She had killed Dragons and learned to Shout. What kind of absurd question was that?

"I hope so. But you'll forgive me if I don't assume that something's true just because the Greybeards say so." Delphine's skepticism wasn't unearned; after all, Alduin himself didn't seem to realize Cura was Dragonborn, either. "I just handed you the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Does that make me Dragonborn, too?"

Cura shrugged. "No, but I am genuinely curious as to how you got through the timed gates."

"My secrets are my own." Delphine stated. "We aren't here to talk about me."

"Of course not." Cura stated. "Besides, if we're being honest, I was expecting someone... taller." Even by Breton standards, Delphine was pretty short. Unfortunately, still a few inches taller than Cura, though, causing her remark to fall flat.

"Good. The whole point of being in hiding is to appear to be someone you're not." Delphine leaned back, rolling the insult off like a squashed mosquito.

"You're not that good, because I recognize you from Dragonsreach. In the hood." Cura tilted her head smugly. Delphine had an air of arrogance around her that pushed Cura's buttons this way. She couldn't figure out exactly why, but this Breton woman's patronizing attitude just rubbed her the wrong way.

"So you were paying attention. I arranged to have Farengar recover the Dragonstone for me. It's what I do. I make things happen from behind the scenes. After all, here you are." Delphine gestured towards the Dragonborn.

"You obstructed my quest." Cura stated. "You'd better have a good reason for dragging me here."

"It was the only way I could make sure it wasn't a Thalmor trap." Delphine confessed. "I'm not your enemy. I already gave you the horn. I'm actually trying to help you. I just need you to hear me out."

"Fine, start explaining, then!" Cura grit her teeth angrily.

"I'll explain what I want when I want, got it?" Delphine barked at her, raising a finger to her face. "You'd already be dead if I didn't like the look of you when you walked in here. But I had to know if the rumors about you were true..."

"Why did you take the horn from Ustengrav?" Cura exhaled her frustrations. It was such an unorthodox way to get her attention, and she wanted to continue training with the Greybeards.

"I knew the Greybeards would send you there if they thought you were Dragonborn. They're nothing if not predictable." Delphine laughed smugly, waving off the wisdom of the old men. "When you showed up here, I knew you were the one the Greybeards sent, and not some Thalmor plant."

"Why are the Thalmor are after you?" Cura asked calmly, her heart finally stopped racing.

"We're very old enemies. And if my suspicions are correct, they might have something to do with the dragons returning. But that isn't important right now. What is important is that you might be Dragonborn." Delphine brought them back to the original matter at hand.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Cura wanted to make sure. How did she know Delphine wasn't part of the Thalmor herself and wanted to kill the Dragonborn, seeing her as a potential ally to the Stormcloaks due to Nord culture?

"If you don't trust me, you were a fool to walk in here in the first place." Delphine shook her head condescendingly. Clearly she had no respect for Cura's stature whatsoever.

"No, I think I'm more a fool for entertaining this nonsense!" Cura stated freshly. She had just left a place where she was patronized like this; why was she moving back in one?

Then it dawned on her.

She was like Carcette, only without the points of kindness and long history together.

Oh no.

Were all Breton women like this?

Cura bit her lower lip. She was not going to wrest away again. She was going to take control this time. "So what's the part you're not telling me?" She wanted to see where their standing was. She was not going to tolerate another, yet nastier Keeper Carcette; this one she owed no love or allegiance to, and she'd rather keep it that way.

"We remember what most don't - that the Dragonborn is the ultimate Dragonslayer. You're the only one that can kill a Dragon permanently by devouring its soul. Can you do it? Can you devour a dragon's soul?" Delphine cut to the chase and placed both her hands on the table and leaned forward to Cura, which made the Vigilant a little uneasy.

"I absorb some kind of power from dragons. That's all I can say." Cura turned away from her, daring not divulge all details just yet.

"This is no time to play the reluctant hero. You either are or aren't Dragonborn. But I'll see for myself soon enough." Delphine pulled herself off the table and walked over to a Chest in the corner of the room, near the door and a table.

"What do you mean, you'll see for yourself?" Cura asked, fearing that she was going to begin stalking her. "I don't want you putting your nose in my life. What I do is not your business!" She protested.

"You're wrong. It is my business. You may be the only one that can stop these Dragons. But you'll understand that soon enough." Delphine removed a set of Leather armour and a couple of long, saberlike blades that were more curved than any saber Cura had ever seen, though admittedly, that wasn't many.

Cura was now the one ill at ease. She was right where Delphine wanted her, and she was powerless to do anything short of committing a grave sin. "So what's the part you're not telling me about the Dragons?"

Cura turned around as Delphine began to rudely change her clothes in her presence, shamelessly undressing from her Inkeeper garbs and into her Leather Armour. "Dragons aren't just coming back, they're coming back to life. They weren't gone somewhere for all these years. They were dead, killed off centuries ago by my predecessors. Now something's happening to bring them back to life. And I need you to help me stop it."

Cura raised an eyebrow. "Do you know how crazy this sounds?"

"Ha. A few years ago, I said almost the same thing to a colleague of mine. Well, it turned out he was right and I was wrong." Delphine finished fastening the straps on her armour.

"What makes you think dragons are coming back to life?" Cura asked. Dragons returning, fine. But being resurrected and not by necromancy? These were strange times, indeed.

"I know they are. I've visited their ancient burial mounds and found them empty. And I've figured out where the next one will come back to life. We're going to go there, and you're going to kill that Dragon. If we succeed, I'll tell you anything you want to know." Delphine assured her, taking control of the operation.

"How... do you figure?" Cura wondered in all honesty.

"You should know. You got the map for me. The Dragonstone you got for Farengar, remember?" Delphine pointed out the obvious, and Cura could only nod in recollection.

"The Dragonstone was a map of ancient Dragon burial sites. I've looked at which ones are now empty. The pattern is pretty clear. It seems to be spreading from the southeast, down in the Jeralls near Riften. The one at Kynesgrove is next if the pattern holds." Delphine dragged her finger across the map from one marked location to another to illustrate her point.

"If we can get there before it happens, maybe we'll learn how to stop it. I understand." Cura mused, scratching her chin. "I guess it would be a good starting point, understanding the method behind this."

"Exactly. Now you're opening your mind. Was that so hard?" Delphine asked as she crossed her arms. "I'll bet we'll find a Thalmor wizard there bringing them back to life."

"Sigh..." Cura was defeated in the end. "All right, let's go kill a Dragon."

"Good." Delphine headed up the stairs quickly, leading the way. She turned to the lazy Barkeep. "Orgnar. I'm travelling. You've got the inn 'til I get back."

Orgnar groaned as he slowly came out of his funk. "Right. Happy trails." He waved her off.

Cura could sympathize with the Nord.

Before she could call her friends, Delphine stopped her. "No, just you and me. I want no interference in this."

Cura shrugged, and as if it were a submissive instinct, she told the trio to stay there and wait for her, to which Lydia in particular reluctantly obliged.

"So.. who wants to hear my fun storybook called 'Inigo the Brave' while we wait?" Inigo took out a little game book. "I am not much of an author by trade, but it was fun to write!"

Lydia hung her head in displeasure with a groan as Mjoll clapped her hands excitedly. "Yes, let's do it!" She exclaimed.

Lydia thought back to Cura. What was going on between her and that suspicious woman? Why would she want her to stay put? Well, if anything was evident, it was that Cura could hold her own in a fight. Lydia sighed as she leaned back to hear about a warrior named Inigo in his garden of Spiders.

Cura and Delphine reached the town gate when the older Breton already stuck her side with a nasty comment. "Better to stick together. I don't want you to get yourself killed before we even get there."

Cura snapped back. "You have no idea what I've been through! Keep pushing me and see where it gets you, you-you old hag!"

Delphine stared at her for a moment in silence before slapping Cura across the face, causing the Dragonborn to reel over to the side. "Don't speak out of line! Now, get moving! We're on a time limit!"

Cura's jaw dropped.

She just slapped her.

That did it.

Cura withdrew her mace, but quickly realized one of the Whiterun Guards now posted in Riverwood was looking directly at her. He seemed to have missed the slap, but saw her arming herself. She sheathed her weapon and followed the now sprinting Delphine.

This was going to be a rough ride.