Chapter LII – Scorched Earth

"Do you think I should have told him about the posthumous cure?" Aeyrin mused as they continued to walk up the road towards Rorikstead.

She kept doing it. She was unable to talk about anything else than the encounter with the Vigilants the entire time they spent on the road. It was still fresh after all. She was pretty sure she was annoying Bishop, but she kept thinking about what happened, what she should have done instead or if some of the Vigilants would now want to kill her even more.

But most of all, she was still trying to make sense of what she felt.

She felt guilty. She felt guilty for agreeing with Bishop and telling Vuaerion that she's not a monster, when she knew full well what kind of atrocities she was capable of in that form. She knew full well she killed those people in Whiterun. And no matter who was in her way, if it was a disgusting drug dealer or a clan of sadistic vampires, the carnage she saw after – that wasn't anything that could be done by anyone but a monster.

But… then again, she remembered all those other things – waking up with Bishop in her arms without a hair on his head harmed, turning in an open street without even moving an inch to attack someone, and all those stories Bishop told her about how they bonded. Sometimes she felt like he saw her werewolf form as a pet. Maybe she was like that only when he was around. But did that make her not a monster?

It was confusing and the guilt was eating her up. She didn't know anymore if she believed Bishop or Vuaerion more. And it was only made worse by the fact that she used the Dragonborn thing to save her life. She hated doing that. Especially now when she was completely useless against Alduin.

At least nobody died. Just focus on that.

It was a miracle that it all ended without anyone getting hurt. Except for Bishop, that is, but healing him was easy and he was as good as new now.

"I mean… he could cure his sister even when she's dead. She could be saved from Oblivion," Aeyrin continued to ponder. She wasn't sure why, she felt like she needed to make up for what she did. She held him at knifepoint while he only did what his duty told him.

"You don't even know if it works like that. All we have is some hearsay from the Companions," Bishop sighed. "How about you wait until we actually know anything before you give people false hope?"

Hmm… he was right. What if she promised this and couldn't deliver? That would make everything worse.

"Besides, some people don't wanna be cured. You heard what those twin idiots said. If someone wants to go running around the Hunting Grounds forever, it's their choice. It's a stupid fucking choice, but it's theirs," Bishop shrugged.

"But what if they found out what it's really like and changed their minds? How can you know that stuff?" Aeyrin bit her lip. Wasn't it better to free people, just in case? It was Oblivion. Who could ever like that?

"You don't. But you leave it alone because you don't know that they'd want to be cured either," Bishop sighed. "What if those two cure their dead father and he hates them for eternity for taking him away from the Hunting Grounds? It's not like he can go back. It's all just fucking stupid. You concentrate on yourself, alright? On your cure."

"Right. You're gonna cure me if I…" she broached the subject, but she knew the answer already.

"Yes. We talked about it. Now stop bringing it up," Bishop grumbled. He wasn't sure why it bothered him that she kept asking if he was gonna cure her after she died. The idea of him being around to do that when she was dead was… unsettling. He knew it could happen, but he didn't like to be reminded of that fact over and over. He didn't want to think about it.

"Sorry," Aeyrin gave him a wry smile. She probably asked that a hundred times before. She should really stop.

She should really stop obsessing over this. They had a nice leisurely day ahead of them and she should just concentrate on enjoying it. They would be in Rorikstead in no time and they could enjoy a warm bath and some good food after the ordeal in Markarth and all that followed.

"What the fuck?" Bishop suddenly stopped in his tracks and stared ahead with shock in his eyes. What happened?

Aeyrin followed his line of sight – towards what they could already see down the road. Rorikstead.

Or what was left of it.

They could see it from afar – the remnants of burned down buildings, the giant black spots on the ground and the armored figures in the distance, walking around. It looked like the whole town was just… wiped off the map. From the distance, they could see nothing left in front of the large basalt cliffs behind it.

It was all just… burned.

…

They rushed towards the scene as fast as they could, down the paved road until the grass around it began to disappear. Instead there were scorch marks everywhere. But most of all, clearly all the buildings were destroyed. There was only rubble and charred wood.

It was a familiar scene – like Helgen, like Karthwasten, Rorikstead was turned to ash. And the culprit was pretty clear. After all, it always looked the same – barren and devoid of all life.

Well, not all life. There were at least twenty guards walking around, both in the armors bearing the Markarth insignia and the Whiterun one. They were sifting through the rubble, maybe looking for survivors, or for some leftover possessions that were not entirely destroyed.

Bishop and Aeyrin wanted to approach one of them and ask what happened, even though they already had suspicions about the answer.

But the moment a small group of guards noticed them, they started to huddle together and whisper amongst each other, looking at them all the while. It was like the gossiping nobles all over again. They looked… fascinated. But they also looked scared. The ambiance may have had something to do with that.

It wasn't just them. Soon, anyone who spotted the two there began staring. And talking. Bishop and Aeyrin couldn't make out any words, everyone was speaking in hushed whispers, but it was clear that they were speaking about them.

Why? What was happening? Was this a restricted area or something? Nobody stopped them from approaching.

"Aeyrin! Bishop!" A familiar voice suddenly rang through the area, disturbing the eerie scene.

It was such a welcome sight to see the young freckled Nord jogging towards them.

"Erik! Are you alright?" Aeyrin looked him over when he reached them, some distance away from the whispering guards who still did not stop staring at them all. Erik looked unharmed though. He was geared up and ready for anything, but there was a very concerned scowl on his face. "What happened?" She finally asked the lingering question.

"Yesterday we saw a dragon fly by the mountains," he sighed. "It was wounded, couldn't fly properly with one wing being damaged, looked like, and it flew in the direction of Rorikstead. It kept roaring. Now… now I'm thinking it was calling for help. Or revenge."

Revenge? Wounded wing? Was this the dragon from Markarth? The one that escaped? Was it so intent on destruction that when it failed in Markarth, it chose a different target?

"Some of us followed it eventually, but we were too late," Erik shook his head regretfully. By 'us' he likely meant the Blades. "By the time we got here… this was it. Two dragons attacked. One wounded. The guards almost killed them both, but the dragons got away in the end. So… I guess the guards won. But… can you really call this a 'win'?" He looked over his shoulder towards one particularly big burned building. The inn.

"What about your dad?" Aeyrin asked carefully. Gods, this looked bad. But if the guards fought, maybe there was some hope that some people managed to hide or run?

"I… I don't know yet," he lowered his head. "There were survivors. Maybe a lot of them. The guards found a few hiding nearby. They're combing the area for more." He looked at the guards, but he noticed soon that they were not doing any 'combing' now. They were still just staring and whispering uncertainly. Erik looked even more worried at that sight. "They're establishing a refugee camp in one of the caves nearby, but… I was just there. My dad's not there," he sighed.

"Not yet," Aeyrin squeezed his shoulder gently in encouragement. He said that people were hiding around the area – maybe his dad just didn't find the camp yet. It was possible. There was always hope.

"Yeah," he smiled at her gratefully, but a moment later, the crease returned between his brows as he looked at the guards once more. What was going on with them?

"It gets worse though," he sighed.

"Worse than this shitstorm?" Bishop scoffed. A whole fucking town was wiped off the map in a few hours, likely. What more bad news could Erik have?

"You don't know the half of it," Erik shook his head. "We need to talk. Up there," he inclined his head a little upwards as if he was gesturing into the distance. They understood him – he meant Sky Haven Temple. He needed them to go to the temple now?

"You wanna go back?" Aeyrin raised her brow at him. "What about your father?"

"I'll check the refugee camp again later," he sighed in resignation. "But… this is bad. Really bad. All of it. We need to talk about this privately."

As he spoke, they heard a set of footsteps behind them. Both Bishop and Aeyrin looked behind their shoulders only to see one of the guards approaching. Very nervously. What was up with them all?

"Could you leave us be now, please?" Erik suddenly snarled at the man. "You won't learn anything new here."

The guard froze on the spot and gave Erik a startled look. He didn't say a word though. Instead, he turned on his heel dejectedly and began walking away again. That was… strange, to say the least.

"Why'd you chase him away?" Aeyrin gave Erik a confused look. "What did he want?" Erik seemed to know what was going on with the guards. Maybe he could finally enlighten them.

But instead, he only gave Aeyrin an oddly regretful look.

What did that mean?

"Just… ignore them for now. I'll explain later. Come."

That seemed to be the end of the discussion. Erik promptly started to walk towards the road again.

Maybe they would get some answers in the temple.

…

Erik was infuriatingly quiet throughout their way back to the temple. That was, when he was anywhere near them.

Most of the time he let them go alone and he kept 'scouting the area'. It was clear that he could still not stop thinking about his father and he kept running off whenever he spotted a good hiding place, likely hoping that he would find more survivors there with him among them.

But finally they made it back there.

Maybe now Erik would actually tell them what was going on. But before that, he insistently went to call the other Blades to meet them.

So here they were once more – all sat by the large stone table. Only this time, as opposed to the celebrations they held the last time they were all here like this, the mood was beyond somber.

"Can someone please fucking tell us what's going on? The fuck is worse than the wiped out village?" Bishop growled impatiently. He had enough of the tension.

"Maybe that was an exaggeration. We don't exactly know if…" Erik sighed, but he was promptly interrupted by Delphine.

"It's not an exaggeration. This could ruin everything. If the war stops, we have no idea how Alduin will react or…"

"Why would the war stop?" Aeyrin raised her brows at Delphine. It was still disturbing to be hoping for a war to continue, but she was already used to that, unfortunately. Though she didn't understand the connection between what happened in Rorikstead and the war.

"There were… reports from the survivors and the guards," Erik lowered his head regretfully. "The dragons… spoke. Apparently they stopped for a leisurely chat before they wiped out the entire town."

"'Spoke'? In Cyrodilic?" Bishop scoffed. What did it matter? Dragons sometimes spoke, but nobody could understand them anyway, unless they were actively trying to communicate with humans like Paarthurnax.

"No. Nobody understood them and they were too busy running for their lives anyway," Erik continued. "But apparently, some of the survivors caught a word. They… talked about Alduin. And… you know how the rest of it goes. Panic, rumors, legends. It spreads faster than the dragons can level a village."

"Wait… so that means…?" Aeyrin scowled at him. Did it mean what it sounded like?

"People know. Everyone knows Alduin's name. He's a legend that children get told about before bedtime," Erik explained, though they already knew this part. "And some people even know the prophecy about his return, apparently. I overheard some guards talking about it."

"So they were all looking at her like that, because…" Bishop scowled and his line of thought was finished by Erik promptly.

"She's not just someone who can kill dragons. The world is ending. And she's the only one who can save it."

A shiver went down Aeyrin's spine at his words. Why was she not used to that idea? Why did it freak her out more and more each time? She had known about the prophecy for ages, but every time she heard someone say it, someone call her their 'savior' or anything like that, she felt like a boulder dropped on her from a great height. Did this mean that everyone would look at her like this from now on? Did that mean that everyone knew about Alduin? Surely that couldn't be the case. The attack was yesterday and people's judgment during the crisis could be suspect – maybe they heard some similar words in Dovahzul and made some assumptions, right?

"Maybe nobody will believe it," Bishop pointed out, as if he could read her mind.

"The guards were treating this as an official report," Erik sighed. "I know that they already sent missives about what happened to Rorikstead to all the Holds. I wouldn't be surprised if this was included. After all, if they ignored these 'rumors' and they turned out to be true, it wouldn't really bode well for their careers, I guess. Not to mention lives."

"They're just scared," Annekke piped up. "Someone tells you the World-Eater returned and is to blame for these dragons everywhere, you're not gonna dismiss it. You're gonna tell it to all your superiors so that they can deal with this shit, decide whether it's true or not. No guard will take it upon themselves to dismiss it."

"And that makes us fucked," Delphine huffed.

"Ulfric already knows," Aeyrin bit her lip nervously. They kept it to themselves all this time, but it was probably a good time to fess up now. "He had a spy listen in on us and he learned about Alduin. He called us in to find out if we were playing him or if it was true."

"And you told him the truth?" Delphine sputtered incredulously.

"What the fuck does it matter what he knows?" Bishop growled at her. "He's not giving up on his war no matter what. And you can sure as fuck bet that Tullius won't either."

"Maybe not when they consider it in their war rooms, but what will happen when the common people pressure them to concentrate on the end of the damn world instead of their petty war?" Delphine shook her head. "The public outrage can sway anyone."

"The dragons are already wiping off entire villages. How can it be different without the war? The wounded dragon that destroyed Rorikstead – that one came from Markarth. Two of them attacked the city while we were there. They attacked Markarth," Aeyrin huffed. It still felt like something entirely incredulous.

And it elicited a shocked stare from the Blades too.

"That's suicidal, even for a dragon," Borgakh scowled uncertainly.

"Markarth was kind of… lacking security. At least visible one. The Forsworn assaulted the city a few days ago. They slaughtered almost all the guards. The dragons attacked right after," Bishop explained.

"Wait… so is Markarth destroyed? Or… taken over by the Forsworn or…" Annekke blinked at them in shock.

"No. Calcelmo… the court wizard… he has this… uhm… he can command the automatons from the ruins beneath the city," Aeyrin tried to put it in a less confusing way than it was. And she didn't want to mention the rod to anyone. Sure, she should trust the Blades that they wouldn't actually go and steal a rod controlling automatons, but the fewer people knew, the better. "He chased off the Forsworn with the automatons and when the dragons attacked the unguarded city, he summoned them again to get rid of the dragons. One was killed and I absorbed the soul. The other… flew away."

"Calling for help and straight towards Rorikstead," Erik let out an incredulous scoff.

"And now there's nothing we can do to stop the rumors from spiraling. People will hear about Markarth. They will hear about Rorikstead," Delphine growled. "And they'll definitely be inclined to believe the prophecy."

"We can only hope that the war doesn't stop," Borgakh shook her head with a defeated look on her face.

Aeyrin wanted to speak again, but apparently, Delphine still remembered the question that never got answered before.

"It can get much worse. This is nothing. Have you not heard the old man's stories? If Alduin gets impatient, we're facing almost immediate extinction and slavery. If he even thinks that humans are preparing for a war against him, he won't give them a chance. This is bad."

Aeyrin suddenly felt really guilty about being predominantly concerned about the uncomfortable effect it would have on her – being seen as the only possible savior of the world. She should really get over herself. This was very serious. Ulfric and Tullius would not stop their war, but if enough people felt like it needed to stop, it might cause something worse.

But what exactly was there to do about it? Should she make a public announcement: 'Please don't stop killing each other.'?

Ridiculous.

Once more, they were powerless when it came to this. There was no stopping the rumors. They knew. It was another thing they were completely helpless against.

"And that's not all," Erik sighed once more.

"What the fuck?! What the fuck could possibly be any worse than this?" Bishop growled angrily. He was fucking fed up. Not only was it gonna be fucking annoying having everyone know about the prophecy and it would definitely make Aeyrin's life way worse, but it was gonna be a fucking pain in the ass if shit happened with the war too. This status quo was shitty, but manageable. He wasn't even sure what to expect now.

And what more could there possibly be?!

"Your letter… you spoke of the Moth Priest. Dexion. I was supposed to be on the lookout for him in Rorikstead," Erik pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Did something happen to him?" Aeyrin asked worriedly. That would be the last straw.

"No. I mean, I don't know. He's supposed to come to Rorikstead, but there is no Rorikstead anymore. We need to contact the other ones and find out if he left already. And if he did…" Erik sighed.

"Great. So we might have no Moth Priest and everyone will soon know the world is ending. Any other fun news?" Bishop grumbled.

They just couldn't catch a break.

Maybe they got too cocky, thinking they had a good day, escaping from certain death at the hands of the Vigil.

Which only reminded him that Aeyrin still couldn't Shout.

This was all a fucking mess.

Was it too late to kidnap her and move to Black Marsh or something? Nobody would find them there in the depths of the swamps. They could even learn how to eat that disgusting shit the Argonians ate there, like… bugs. All that just so nobody would ever find them.

It sounded so fucking tempting just then.

"I'll… I'll write to the Moth Priests," Aeyrin sighed. She needed to do something to make herself feel proactive. To make herself feel like she was doing something to help with this situation. She had no idea what else to do though. She doubted anyone would be able to stop the rumors now.

Then again, she also doubted that anyone would be able to stop the war. And that pertained to Alduin and his plans to 'eat the world'.

Once again, the best they could hope for was for lives to continue being lost.