LOK… VAH KOOR
The mountain shook with the power of the Thu'um, and the Shout echoed across the cliffs. Before Ysmir and Inigo, the impenetrable wind barrier that had been blocking their ascent dissipated into nothing.
"Quickly, before the winds pick back up," Ysmir said as he trudged forward up the path to the summit of the Throat of the World, bringing his knees all the way up to his waist just to clear them from the snow.
"Yes, let us make haste," Inigo said as he did the same, "I believe my fur is beginning to freeze."
Ysmir looked over and sure enough, on the tips of Inigo's dark purple fur, white crystals of ice were forming in patches all over his body. The crystals themselves, Ysmir noticed, glittered in the sunlight.
"You didn't have to come with, you know," Ysmir said, feeling a slight pang of guilt at the sight of his shining, but clearly freezing, friend. As a Nord the cold barely affected him, he sometimes forgot how much of a hindrance it was to others.
Inigo raised his hand in dismissal. "Where you, I go my friend," he replied. Inigo adjusted his cloak to cover more of his body, and the pair continued the climb. As they neared the summit, a large winged shadow passed over them.
"Dragon!" Inigo yelled, giving him and Ysmir just enough time to brace against the force of the gale Paarthurnax left in his wake. Ysmir covered his face with his arms, and Inigo ducked underneath his cloak. The two stayed standing, but got completely coated in the freshly kicked up snow. Just up on the ridge, they heard and felt the telltale rumble of a dragon landing on the ground.
"Well, at least we know he's home," Ysmir said as he brushed the snow off himself with his hand.
"Lucky us," Inigo joked, shaking off his cloak. As they expected, they crested the hill and saw Paarthurnax perched on top of the Word Wall, his large head turned towards them. Even from a distance the sight of a dragon, even a friendly one, staring directly at him was unnerving to Inigo. "I think, I shall wait here where it smells of fresh snow, not go where it smells of flying lizard."
"Very well," Ysmir said. The sight of dragons, staring at him or not, was something he barely noticed anymore. They were his kin, after all. "Make sure you don't freeze." And with that, the two split up, Inigo finding a rock to sit on and admire the view, and Ysmir crossing the distance to Paarthurnax.
As he approached, the great dragon spoke up. "Drem Yol Lok Dovahkiin. It is good to see you. I see the Kaaz, the Khajiit, still refuses to approach."
"He is still uneasy around dragons," Ysmir replied.
"Hmmmmmmm. As well he should be. Onik. Wise. It is good to have able companions. One strong Grah-Zeymahzin is worth ten thousand lesser followers."
Grah-Zeymahzin, Ysmir thought to himself, battle-companion. The dragon language came naturally to Ysmir after years of studying Word Walls, but he was slow to translate them to the mortal tongue. Luckily Paarthurnax spoke steadily, and slowly. "Yes, he is certainly one-in-ten-thousand." From this close, Ysmir could see the still smoldering scales on Paarthurnax's head and body, "how goes your debates with the other dragons?" he asked.
"They go well, Dovahkiin. My Thu'um is strong. More and more dovah convert to the Way of the Voice at my insistence. They retreat to their own strunmah to pursue their own enlightenment. Far from the eyes of joor, of mortals. Now tell me, Dovahkiin, what brings you to the summit of Monahven? To my sanctuary?"
"Master Arngeir sent me, he said you could help me," Ysmir replied, "I've been having a dream, a dream that comes back to me every other night. But I'm beginning to think dream is the wrong word, it's more like a memory. A memory of something that hasn't happened yet."
"Dahmaan? A memory?"
"Of things that have not yet come to pass. Or may or may not, depending on my actions." Ysmir answered. The more he thought on the dreams, the more some things became clearer, and others more confusing.
"When did these dreams start?"
"After defeating Alduin, and returning from Sovngarde." Ysmir said, reflecting on his time in the afterlife, and the epic battle that took place there.
"Hmmm, and after your reading of the kel, the Elder Scroll. Kel suleyk vonmindoraan. The power of an Elder Scroll is unknowable, it may have affected your mind in ways we do not yet know."
The thought of being driven insane by the Elder Scroll, like old Septimus Signus, made Ysmir shudder. As did the thought of being made blind, like Dexion Evicus. Reading one Elder Scroll was bad enough, in his past he had read three. "So you think these dreams are just side effects from the Elder Scrolls?"
"Perhaps. And, perhaps not. Just because the kel has touched your mind, does not mean it has broken it. You may not know it, but you begin to see time the way dov do. Your dovah sos allows you glimpses of the vennesetiid, the currents of time. Share with me your experiences of this dream, Dovahkiin."
Ysmir nodded. In his time at High Hrothgar, one of the skills he was taught was how to share knowledge, just like how the Greybeards shared knowledge of different shouts to him during his quests. Master Arngeir called it cheating, the ability to instantly transfer experiences. He said it took away from the meaning of those experiences. Which was true, Ysmir believed. However, it was highly efficient.
Ysmir closed his eyes. He brought his hands together over his core and bowed his head, breathing in through his nose as he did. In one fluid motion, he moved his hand down and out to his side, turning his palms outward at the same time. He raised his head and exhaled out his mouth. Currents and arcs of light, his experiences of his vision, flowed out of Ysmir's body and into Paarthurnax.
You are high in the air, so high that the sky above you is black and the stars shine bright. Below you, Tamriel. The continent is flat, as though it were a map, and it is in flames. From the flames, several massive towers emerge from the ground. One to the northwest in High Rock, one in the center, which you recognize as the White-Gold Tower, and one on the Summerset Isles. You see the Red Mountain rise from Vvardenfell, then the Throat of the World out of Skyrim, then a large, unfamiliar tree from southwest of Tamriel. One by one you watch as the flames surrounding them climb up the towers, and they crumble and fall to the ground. As they crumble, the very land around them is torn apart by earthquakes, tsunamis, thunder storms, and volcanoes that sprout from seemingly nowhere. This continues until only the tower on the Summerset Isles remains. Although this saves the Isles from the devastation of the continent, you see them wither away and sink into the ocean. You feel an overwhelming sense of weakness and despair, and suddenly, you begin to fall. You close your eyes just before you hit the ground.
You open your eyes and you realize you're in Sovngarde, standing on a small mountain overlooking Shor's Hall. You feel a sense of easiness and contentment. A sound above you catches your ear, and you look up. Descending down towards you at a dive is a massive, glowing hawk. You see, wrapped around its neck like a collar, a beautiful amulet. A massive ruby gem the shape of a diamond, enclosed in a golden band with 8 smaller jewels embedded in it. Sitting on the hawk's head is a dark iron crown that crackles with lighting. The hawk continues its descent towards you, and you cannot move. You wince as it flies directly into your chest, and an explosion of light blinds you.
As the light clears, you are once again in the air above the burning lands of Tamriel. But this time, armies march at your command against the flames that consume the world, and you are invigorated with a sense of power and purpose. You Shout, with your inherited power of dragons, and with each Shout the flames recede. It is an arduous task, and you drop to your knees in exhaustion. But then, in Skyrim, a massive glowing dragon flies out of the Throat of the World and rushes towards you and hits you, just as the hawk did. Then you stand back up. Eventually, the flames are snuffed out, and you fall backwards one last time. Below, unnumbered souls cry out in relief and celebration. You fall slowly, like you're being lowered by unseen hands, and you close your eyes. At the last second, the speed of your fall increases tenfold. You hit the ground—
Ysmir's eyes shot open. He was out of breath, gasping for air, and laying on his back in the snow. Paarthurnax too, was out of breath. Ysmir could hear the slow, heavy breathing of the old dragon at his feet. He sat up, and brought his hand to his head. He did not share an experience of the dream to Paarthurnax, he shared the dream itself.
Paarthurnax steadied his breathing, "Uznahgaar mulaag qostiid. The unbridled strength of prophecy, it is a powerful force to behold."
"That was not the same dream I've been having, that was something else," Ysmir said as he got back up to his feet, "I've never seen a dragon in my dreams before."
"Indeed, it seems that your actions have altered the vennesetiid. Fate is, after all, the sum of our actions and inactions."
"So that means…"
"Yes, Dovahkiin. Hin hahnu gut qostiid. Your dreams are that of prophecy."
Even though Ysmir already knew deep down that was true, the revelation still shocked him. "But what are they telling me? What am I supposed to do?" Ysmir was no stranger to prophecy. He was, after all, the Dragonborn prophesied to defeat Alduin. But that prophecy was carved into Alduin's Wall ages ago, by ancient hands. It was a terrifying thing to be revealed a prophecy of oneself while it was still being written.
"Hmmmm, I have long pondered the meaning of Alduin's viik, his defeat, but it is clear to me now. Vokul hokorun lahvraan. Dark forces gather, and they seek the destruction of Taazokan, of Tamriel, by destroying the Towers that anchor creation. But there are powers that believe this world is not meant to be destroyed. Not yet. They fight against the Oblaan Tiid. The End Times."
The pieces slowly started to fall into place in Ysmir's mind, "and those powers, the ones fighting against the End Times, they've chosen me?"
"It would seem like that is vahzah, that is true. You have been shown a vision of the krongrah, the triumph, of both sides. You've also been shown how your actions, whatever they may be, can change those krongrah. Perhaps the return of Alduin at this time was the first grahmindol of these alGus, and you were the counter by the wahlaanfus. Perhaps there have been many such attempts in past ages."
Once again, Ysmir translated Paarthurnax's words in his mind. Grahmindol he knew, that translated to strategy, or maneuver. But the other two words were new, he had to break them down to their roots. Al-fus, forces of destruction. Wahlaan-fus, forces of creation. "So, the Aedra and Daedra are behind this?" Ysmir asked.
"Unslaad krosis, I do not know. But your vision of Sovngarde…"
"Sovngarde? You mean the hawk with the necklace and crown?" Ysmir asked.
"Yes. The hawk. Symbol of Kaan, of Kyne. She has always been sympathetic to the plight of joor, of mortals. And the necklace, I recognize it as the Amulet of Kings. Symbol of my father, Akatosh."
Ysmir had read stories of the Amulet of Kings, but he never knew what it looked like. A thought came to his mind, "also of the Septim Bloodline."
"An everlasting symbol of the Junnesejul, the kings of man. As is the Stormcrown."
"The Stormcrown? Like Talos Stormcrown?" Ysmir asked.
"Another Dovahkiin with a destiny beyond High Hrothgar."
Those words shook Ysmir to his core. He felt a deep pit form in his stomach. Ysmir believed he had earned a quiet peaceful life. He thought that the weight of responsibility was lifted from him when he vanquished Alduin, when he foiled the Tyranny of the Sun, when he prevented Miraak's return. But now, it seemed fate was asking even more of him. "So, my destiny is to become Emperor?" he wearily asked.
"Hmmmm. It might be. But beware, Dovahkiin. Paar wahl prodah qostiid diivon dovah. Ambition born of prophecy is a trap that has insnared many dovah in the past. Learn from Alduin's fall. Do not repeat it."
Emperor of Tamriel. Part of Ysmir felt anxious at the prospect, his human side that desired peace. Part of him felt excited, his dragonblooded side that desired power. But all of Ysmir knew that's what was expected of him. That's what Tamriel needed him to become. He must lead the Empire against the forces that sought to destroy the world and bring about the End Times. But who were those forces? Ysmir remembered something, "in my dream, the Tower of the Summerset Isles is not destroyed. Does that mean the Elves are the forces of destruction?"
"I do not believe so. In your dream, the islands of the fahliil still fall to ruin. Not at the same moment, but they do fall. Perhaps the fahliil are the zahkrii, the sword, but they are not the hand. They will suffer the same fate as the rest of Tazokaan."
"A sword can only be countered with another sword," Ysmir said.
"Or, a spaan."
Or a shield. A sword or a shield. Either way, the Empire needed to be ready. Tamriel needed to be ready. Ysmir took a deep breath, he did not know exactly where the path laid out for him would take him, but he knew it would be long and arduous.
Paarthurnax seemed to know what was going on in Ysmir's mind. "The path before you is difficult, Dovahkiin, but it is no more difficult than the paths you have already traveled. Stay true to geinmaar, to yourself, and you will never be lost."
"Thank you, Master Paarthurnax. I will never forget your wisdom," Ysmir said as he bowed to the old dragon, his mentor and teacher.
Paarthurnax bowed his massive head back to his student. "You may want to start by returning to the Blades, I have heard from the other dovah of their gathering strength."
Ysmir furrowed his brow, "you would send me to the Blades?"
A slow, deep chuckle came out of Paarthurnax, "yes, I advise you to seek counsel with those who once counseled you to kill me. Laas wahlaan motmahus. Life is full of ironies, is it not? Farewell, Dovahkiin." And with that, Paarthurnax spread his wings into the air. With one mighty push he soared up into the sky, letting out a proud roar as he flew to the south, leaving Ysmir alone by the Word Wall. A victim of another prophecy, once again a holder of great responsibility. The fate of the world, resting on his shoulders.
Empty your mind, Inigo thought to himself, empty your mind. Inigo sat balanced on his rock, his legs crossed underneath him, trying to meditate. For some reason meditation never came easy to him, no matter how much Ysmir or Arngeir tried to teach it. Empty your mind, Inigo. But how can you empty your mind if you are talking to yourself Inigo? Can a mind truly be empty? If you empty your mind will you ever be able to fill it again? Damn if it isn't cold on this mountain. I think my tail is going to snap off. What is taking them so long?
Just then a massive gust of wind blew Inigo from his rock, and he fell into the snow. He pulled himself back up to his feet using the rock, just as Paarthurnax let out a loud roar and flew away. Inigo shook his head. He knew the grumpy old dragon did that on purpose, knocking him off his rock while he was deep in his meditations. Using both of his hands, he made rude gestures in Paarthurnax's direction. That would show him. Inigo heard the sound of snow being crunched by footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Ysmir walking his way.
"He didn't do that on purpose you know, Master Paarthurnax isn't one to play cheap tricks." Ysmir said as he joined his friend.
"That's exactly what he wants you to think," Inigo replied, "how did it go? You were there for a while."
Ysmir sighed, and began walking back down the path to High Hrothgar. Inigo quickly followed. "Once again you were right Inigo. We need to save the world."
"Of course we do, we're the best at it! And how are we going to do it this time?" Inigo asked, picking up his pace to keep up with Ysmir, who was almost running down the mountain.
"Well," Ysmir answered, "it starts with me becoming Emperor."
Inigo stopped in his tracks. Those words freezing him more than all the cold winds on the Throat of the World ever could. "It's never easy, is it?" he muttered to himself.