Chapter 1

Dragonborn Gallery, Solitude

Middas, 20th of Second Seed

They gathered on the southern porch of the Explorer's Guild house. Auryen Morellus and his trusted colleague, Professor Patero Marassi, were flanked by yet another respected academic, Mirabelle Ervine, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. Her former student and member of the Explorer's Guild, the Khajit Latoria, looked over her shoulder as Harald Lorasson, Dragonborn and former chief relic hunter for the Guild, approached the group. He stepped forward and placed the small metal slate, the object they had all been summoned to examine, on the table that had been brought out for this purpose. Curious, they all thought collectively, that such a small object might cause such commotion.

Auryen spoke first, "You've all been summoned here to help ascertain the nature of this item. It was found on the highest peak of the Throat of the World, a place of no small magical significance. The particular spot where this object was found, is known by some as a "Time Wound." During the war against Alduin's Dragon Cult, an Elder Scroll was read there and used to banish Alduin to a different point in time. In more recent years, that same scroll was used by our mutual friend here to unlock the secrets of the shout that those ancient Tongues used against Alduin."

Lorasson stepped forward, and relayed the relevant details of what Idgrod the Younger had been able to auger from the object.

It was Mirabelle Ervine who spoke next, "It would appear then that our only recourse now is to try and open the slate." There was agreement among all present. There was nothing else for it, as all that could be learned from without now had been. She stepped forward.

Lorasson held up a hand and shook his head, "Everyone, take a few paces back." Ervine gave him a hard look, and relented. He conjured a spell, Ebonyflesh, in both of his hands, and donned his helmet. There was no telling what would happen when he pressed the button, and only one way to find out.

He took the slate in his hand and pressed the center button, and its left half seemed to spring outward, more than doubling its width. A shimmering blue light appeared almost as a sheaf of fabric or parchment to connect the two halves. Less than a moment later, runes appeared amidst the light, clearly legible. In the center, a set of numerals appearing to denote time, and beneath them, appeared words. The words had no particular meaning to him, though he could read the letters. Wednesday, May 20th. He read the numerals and words aloud, and slowly the rest of the group began to huddle around him, now assured that the device was not appearing to cause any harm.

Marassi's eyebrows shot up in astonishment, "It's a date! The formatting is even the same as is used here, fascinating! What else is there, Harald?"

He furrowed his brow as he searched the display for more information. As his eyes settled toward the bottom edge of the panel of light, a small message appeared. Swipe up to open. Using his finger, he did so, and the picture changed to something completely different. A varied array of small tiles, each with different icons and labels beneath them. Carefully, Lorasson set the slate back down on the table so that everyone could see. Latoria alternated her gaze between the device and her notes, scribbling frantically at the new development. With his finger, he tapped the tile that read "Messages." The display changed yet again, more words, names this time, he recognized. He started from the top, with the section labeled "Dad."

Dragonborn Gallery, Solitude

Later that evening

They all sat at the dining table, though none of them ate. The hours spent pouring over the device had left them all in a state of cautious excitement. They agreed that the device must be magical in nature, so similar it was to many finds from the Dwemer and ancient Snow Elves. Yet the language used was common Tamrielic, not any language of the Meric races. As was often the case with such discoveries, all that was gleaned from the device had raised more questions than it answered.

Auryen started, "Let us summarize, this device belongs to a young woman named 'Ruby,' who appears to be a student of some sort. Many of the images contained within the device depict warriors wielding strange weapons, and we have tentatively concluded from those images and several messages that she is studying to become one of them."

Latoria chimed in, "I believe I also may have found her family name. One of the 'pictures' shows her holding an engraved award which reads 'Ruby Rose.' If her world follows most Tamrielic naming conventions, then it stands to reason that this is her full name."

Ervine shook her head, "It's preposterous to assume that, whoever they are, they follow those conventions as we do. 'Rose' could just as easily be a title of some sort."

Auryen held up a hand, "Regardless if it is a name or a title, it's clear that this individual can be referred to as 'Ruby Rose' in certain contexts." He chuckled, "So as to avoid any confusion with gemstones, we'll call her 'Ruby Rose' from now on." The table murmured in agreement, and some rose to take their leave for the evening.

"Wait," Lorasson spoke softly but firmly, and turned to Auryen, "You know as well as I do that there's only one way to know for certain who this girl is, and to get any hard truths about where or when this device came from."

Auryen narrowed his eyes as the other paused to look at the seasoned adventurer, "Planar travel is not something to be taken lightly, my friend, you of all people should understand that."

"Finding out the truth isn't either. Something happened to make it appear where it did. Something powerful enough to tear a hole in their reality, and reopen the stitch in ours." He stood and pointed a finger at the old elf, "You knew that I wouldn't stand idly by if there was any chance that this could represent a threat to the realm. That's why you sent for me. And here I am, standing forth, and offering my aid to put this mystery to rest. Let me help you, old friend."

Auryen hesitated, "If anything were to happen to you-"

Lorasson cut him off, "Then I would go to Sovngarde, knowing that it wasn't for naught."

The Altmer sighed resignedly, then looked back at his friend, "How?"

Lorasson looked at Mirabelle, then back at Auryen, "I'll have an answer for you by tomorrow."

High Hrothgar

Fredas, 29th of Second Seed

The journey to High Hrothgar had been a lengthy one, and climbing the 7,000 steps yet again had not been a welcome prospect. Yet Paarthurnax's aid would be vital, and neither Lorasson nor Mirabelle Ervine could think of a better place to meet with the old Dovah and enlist the aid of his students. As they made the summit, Lorasson could pick out a familiar set of horns cresting the top of the mountains. The ancient dragon's voice bellowed across the peak.

"Drem yol lok, Qahnaarin. I presume you are here regarding the strange golz which I found on my strunmah?"

Lorasson bowed his head, in deference to the elder, "Drem yol lok, Grah-Zeymahzin. Indeed, that is why I have come here. This is Mirabelle Ervine, a great mage of Winterhold, who has aided me greatly in my task."

Ervine bowed her head toward the massive dragon, who reciprocated the gesture, "Pruzah grind, Lot Kro. Well met. Now, what task is this of which you speak, Strundu'ul?"

Lorasson held up the slate, "This device is not of Mundus. I seek to find where it came from, and find the truth of why it came here."

The Dovah tilted his head quizzically, "Hmm, krosis, was this perhaps not meant to be known?"

Lorasson shook his head, "Some things should remain a mystery, but if the appearance of this device heralds a threat to my world, then you know I am honor-bound to act. And for this, I have need of your aid, and that of your students."

"Zin-gro, indeed. So be it. I will offer you my aid in this errand of yours, Dovahkiin."

Lorasson bowed again, "Kogaan, Paarthurnax." He turned as he heard footsteps crunching the snow behind him. Four stooped and hooded figures approached the peak. He looked back at Paarthurnax with a wry grin. He must have summoned them. He was going to agree to help me regardless.

"Greetings, Dragonborn," the leader of the four called out.

Lorasson stepped briskly towards them, "Master Arngeir," the old man stretched out a hand, which his student firmly grasped.

"We were summoned here by Paarthurnax, to offer our aid in some errand of yours," he said, confirming what Lorasson had suspected.

"It will involve travel between planes of Aetherius. I recalled the portal to Sovngarde on top of Skuldafn, which had been built by the Dragon Cult with Alduin's aid. I was hoping Paarthurnax or one of his students might have been privy to that sort of knowledge."

Arngier glanced at Paarthurnax, and nodded. The dragon spoke, "It was by the power of thu'um that the miiraak was opened. I was there when it was first built. 'Sovngarde Nin Zeim,' were the words they used. 'Sovngarde, pierce, beyond,' in your tongue," he added, for Mirabelle's benefit.

She started, "Useful as that may be, we have one considerable problem: we don't know the name of this particular plane. In all the hours we spent scouring the information contained within that device, we never found anything decisively naming the world from which it came. Some references to the word 'Remnant,' but we can't be sure what that's referring to. If you ask me, 'Remnant' seems more appropriate for a plane of Oblivion."

Arngier stroked his beard thoughtfully, and looked at her, "It's possible that you might not need the name of the plane at all. Tell me, do you have a name for a person that resides there?"

She nodded, "If we're correct in our reasoning, then we have at least one, if not, two. The first is the likely owner of this device, a young girl we've agreed to call 'Ruby Rose.' The other is of similar age, possibly a few years her senior, who appears to be a close, possibly familial relation. A sibling, perhaps, we've determined that they both live together. Her name is a strange one, and none of us have agreed on how it should be pronounced. We…also have the name of what appears to be a small dog who seems to live with the two girls, though I won't try to pronounce that name, either."

Paarthurnax turned his massive head towards Lorasson, "Do you recall your dealings with Durnehviir, Dovahkiin?

It had been quite some time since Lorasson had summoned the undead dragon, all efforts to free him from the Soul Cairn having failed. His former foe had taught him one of the most terrible thu'um to ever be uttered, and he used it sparingly, only in times of great need against a particularly loathsome enemy. "I do," he said, after snapping out of his reverie.

"Then you know that it is not his sil that binds him to that accursed plane, but his kopraan, his flesh. By calling his name, by your thu'um alone, you summon him to Mundus. By the might of all the tongues gathered here, you may be sent to those you seek."

He nodded, and turned to Arngier, "I'm ready. Just tell me what to do."

Arngier pointed, "Kneel down near the Time Wound. Clasp the object firmly in your hands, and, most importantly, concentrate deeply on the names and faces of those you seek, keep them in your mind's eye."

He nodded and started toward the faint shimmer which marked an open wound in the plane of Mundus. Mirabelle stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Wait. How will you get back?"

He considered, recalling how Tsun, guardian to the Hall of Valor, had sent him back to Nirn from Sovngarde. "Compared with traveling to an unknown plane of Aetherius, returning to Nirn won't be nearly as difficult. There's at least one shout that I know of, possibly more. And if that fails, I suppose you can just draft a spell to summon me back if waiting bores you," he let out a slight chuckle.

She rolled her eyes, and reached into her satchel, "Here, don't think I'm letting you leave without some extra spells," and handed him a pair of scrolls.

He read the runes on the retaining bands of the parchment, "'Banish Living,' and 'Talons of Nirn?' You spared no expense, it seems. Thank you, though I pray to never have need of them."

"Just come back safe."

"I will." And with that, he turned on his heel and marched towards the Time Wound.

It was quicker than he had expected. He had knelt down in the snow, flanked by the Greybeards, with Paarthurnax directly in front of him. Then, they began to speak.

"NIN, TIID, ZEIM."

What began as a chant began to fade to a drone. His focus was elsewhere entirely. Ruby Rose. Yang. Zwei. He repeated the names in his mind, over and over, until they came unbidden. His vision darkened, despite the heavy glare of the sun and snow. Then, an ear-splitting CRACK, and all he could see was blinding white.

Island of Patch

Friday, August 16th

They both jolted at the sound. Ruby had been intently watching a documentary on the weapons of famous Huntsman and Huntresses while Yang snored softly on the couch, the subject matter not having held her interest very well.

"Wha-whawasthat..?" Ruby registered a groggy voice behind her. Yang had an uncanny ability to sleep almost anywhere, and through nearly anything. Couldn't have been anything natural if it woke her up. She stood and opened the blinds, eyes squinting against the mid-afternoon sun. Not a cloud in the sky, couldn't be thunder. The girls and the family dog were home alone, their father having taken a last-minute assignment, though he had promised to be home in time to see them off at the airport for the flight to Beacon. She could still feel the excitement from when the acceptance letters had arrived last month. Now though, that excitement was replaced with something else. Not exactly fear, as no daughter of Taiyang Xiao Long would ever admit to being scared of anything. However, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that the loud crack she just heard had somehow changed everything.

"Ruby!" Yang hissed.

"Yeah?"

"What do you think that was? Did you see anything?"

"With the blinds closed? No," she grabbed her Scroll from the table, "Nothing on the motion sensors, or the cameras."

Yang shrugged, "Maybe it was a transformer blowing or something?"

Ruby shot her a look, "Then why do we still have electricity? There was no blackout and the generator didn't turn on!"

Yang put up her hands defensively, "Just spitballing, lighten up, will y-"

The scroll chimed a warning, the motion sensors had found something approaching the house. Ruby pulled up the front door camera, and what she saw only deepened her sense of foreboding. A tall, dark, humanoid figure, wearing a black cloak and hood, was approaching the house. He was visibly armed, and the telltale shine of polished metal on his chest told her that he was wearing armor. Then, a sharp knock on the door pulled her attention from the Scroll. She looked at Yang.

"What should we do?"

Yang had already gone to her room and grabbed Ember Celica. She looked at her sister as she donned the heavy gauntlets and performed a press check on both. She grinned, "Be rude not to answer, don'tcha think?"

Author's note:

If you want to visualize what sort of armor Harald's wearing, just look up 4thUnknown's "Northern God" set on Nexus. He's wearing one of the alternate color schemes. And as for his knife, the metal is what we would call copper Damascus, or "coppermascus." Feel free to Google search if you want a visual reference. I remember seeing a piece on Half-Face Blade's social media and just knew that it would make for a good story piece.