Author's Note: for this part, "Skyrim OST - From Past to Present"
Cura's eyes fluttered open, the dim light of Stendarr's Beacon casting a warm glow across her face. The air was thick with the aroma of incense and the distant murmur of Vigilant prayers. Her body felt heavy, the weight of her journey pressing down on her shoulders.
She sat up slowly, her movements cautious and deliberate. The Vigilant who had first spotted her was nowhere to be seen, but the commotion had already spread. A flurry of footsteps echoed from the corridor as others rushed to confirm the news. Cura's awareness of her surroundings gradually increased as her consciousness fully re-entered her physical body. The familiar stone walls and high ceilings of Stendarr's Beacon came into focus.
As the seconds passed, she took a moment to gather herself. The past trials - both physical and spiritual - had left their mark on her body, her mind, and her soul.
"Hng..." she found herself groaning. She looked down at her hands: she was still donning her Meridian Champion Garb. It had followed her through the portal, manifesting into the physical world as well. She was truly one again, in body and in spirit.
"It was the brightest flash I've ever seen!" the Vigilant who'd hurried off could be heard saying from the hallway adjacent to the rest area. "She's alive! She's really alive!" another voice, breathless with excitement, joined in. The sound of running footsteps grew louder as more Vigilants converged on the area.
Cura's head swam as she tried to stand, her legs unsteady and weak. She leaned against the nearest wall for support, her breathing ragged.
"Vigilant Cura! Oh my goodness!" Vigilant Emma exclaimed with shock as she emerged with the others from the corridor.
From the stairs in the east side of the room descended Keeper Ciirta, Vigilant Bazur, Vigilant Raelynne, Vigilant Vidkun, and many others, drawn to the shocking spectacle that had graced their ears.
"Stendarr's mercy!" Keeper Ciirta gasped and cupped her hands over her mouth as she saw Cura sitting up in the bed. As more and more Vigilants poured into the room, their voices rising in a crescendo of astonishment and relief, Cura found herself blinking against the sudden onslaught of light and noise. The chamber was now filled with a sea of faces, their expressions ranging from shock to joy, as they stared at her in disbelief.
"By the Nine!" exclaimed a gruff voice from the back of the crowd. Cura blinked in the bright light, her eyes adjusting to the sea of faces surrounding her. The Vigilants' voices echoed off the stone walls, a cacophony of astonishment and relief. Cura's mind raced as she tried to process the flood of emotions and questions bombarding her.
"Call Inigo! Find him, quickly!" Keeper Ciirta ordered firmly, her voice wavering with excitement.
The crowd of Vigilants parted as two young acolytes rushed from the room, their robes trailing behind them. Cura's chest tightened as she realized what had happened - she was alive, somehow, and the news was spreading like wildfire through Stendarr's Beacon.
Cura was still dazed from the transcendental experience, and her breathing was beginning to steady itself. She was awash with dizziness. "I... I'm home." She reached around her neck and felt the Amulet of Kings between her fingers. A glint formed in her eye as she realized that the Divine relic had in fact followed her into the mortal realm. The Amulet of Kings: the elusive red diamond that came and went various times throughout history, leaving times of great sorrow and desperation in its wake, returning when the world had reached its lowest point. When the Alessians had lost the Amulet and replaced it publicly with their true Red Stone, Nirn suffered. And when that was no longer applicable, the world fell into chaos as the Order fell.
Then Reman Cyrodiil was born, the Amulet around his neck.
The Septim Dynasty then carried the Amulet throughout the ages, from Tiber to Martin. Then Martin destroyed it to unleash the Aspect of Akatosh contained within the blood of Shezzar which bound the Amulet.
For the last 200 years, Tamriel has teetered upon the brink of utter collapse, the Empire ruled by a non-Dragonborn dynasty, where the Thalmor had run rampant and Humanity has suffered. Paired with the return of the Dragons, and now the return of Mehrunes Dagon, the situation felt pretty hopeless.
But, as the legends said: the wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.
The Last Dragonborn, who defeated Alduin, and explored the Deadlands and went through the very depths of Coldharbour itself, and now, stands before Tamriel once more not as a Vigilant of Stendarr, but the potential leader of a burgeoning New Empire, with the Amulet of Kings around her neck, perched beside her Amulet of Stendarr.
The people gathered stared at her in awe, unable to explain the artifact's sudden appearance, or her change in armour. All they knew now was that the Dragonborn had returned to life.
In the Riften fields, Inigo, Ilia, Vilja, and Gabrielle surveyed the great chasms that had been torn upon the landscape in the wake of Dagon's wrath earlier.
"Shor's Stone is gone." Vilja remarked as she gazed upon a burning wreckage and a collapsed mine where the small village once stood.
Inigo nodded solemnly, his eyes scanning the devastation. "Indeed. The town is no longer a Stone, but a pile of pebbles. I am glad we were able to save everybody."
Gabrielle Clement, the Knight of the Void, stepped forward, her tarnished armor gleaming in the eerie light cast by the smoldering ruins. "'Tis but a taste of the chaos that will engulf all of Nirn if Dagon's plans come to fruition." She observed the ruins with a solemn glance. "It reminds me of the fate of Caecilly Island. T'was a tragedy of ungracious magnitude. Nothing remained of the city but smoldering ruins within the Deadlands. 'Tis all Mehrunes Dagon enjoyed of life; destruction and suffering."
A distant rumble shook the lands at that instant, and a brilliant flash of light consumed the southern sky. Inigo felt something ebbing in his pocket; a powerful force reacting to the phenomenon, seemingly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small, ornate box. Through the slits of the box, he could see a golden light peeking through. He flipped open the box, and the Ring of Stendarr's Mercy, the gift that Keeper Ciirta had given him not too long ago, was shimmering like mad.
The group turned their attention to him, concern etched on their faces as they watched the magical artifact pulse with increasing intensity. The very air around them seemed to quiver, and a deep, ominous vibration coursed through the ground around the group. "The Ring of Stendarr's Mercy... it's reacting to something, I can feel it."
"The Southern skies... that's where Stendarr's Beacon is, isn't it?" Ilia pointed out. The group shared concerned glances as the strange events unfolded before them. Inigo's ring continued to pulse and emit a soft, ethereal glow, its presence a stark contrast to the dark and desolate surroundings of the ruined village.
"'Tis indeed near the Beacon," Gabrielle acknowledged, her brow furrowing with worry. "'Tis not a coincidence. Stendarr's will must be at work here." The Knight of the Void looked to the others.
Inigo, without a moment's hesitation, began to sprint through the fields, his mind wandering further than his feet. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, the Ring of Stendarr's Mercy still glowing and pulsing in his hand. The others quickly followed, their footsteps crunching against the cold ground. As they ran, the sky grew darker, and a chill settled in the air. Inigo's heart pounded, not just from the physical exertion, but from the growing dread of what might be happening at the Beacon.
After some time the group arrived at the palisade and dashed up the slope leading to the Beacon. Everything seemed to be in order, but nobody was outside training.
"Maybe they all went inside?" Vilja proposed as she examined the vacant courtyard surrounding the fortress.
Inigo's ring continued to pulse with increasing intensity, its ethereal glow now casting strange shadows across the ground. The air grew heavier, and an ominous stillness settled over the Beacon. Inigo reached the door and pried it open. He hurried down the stairs, only to see all of the present Vigilants gathered there.
He pushed through the sea of Paladins and hurried through. As Inigo rushed through the gathered Vigilants, he found Cura sitting at the edge of her bed, her head bowed in prayer. The Ring of Stendarr's Mercy pulsed with an almost blinding intensity in his hand, and he could feel the power emanating from it, as if it were trying to guide him to Cura's side.
Cura, sensing Inigo's presence, looked up from her prayers. Inigo stopped short of the edge of the crowd, and for an ephemeral moment, the two locked eyes.
Cura's bright green eyes misted over, and Inigo's red, catlike eyes softened, and clouded over with tears.
Cura's lips quivered and she slowly stood up from the bed. "INIGOOOOOOOOOO!" she wailed as she sprinted forward and leapt into his arms.
"CURA!" Inigo cried out in turn, and he caught his friend, twirling her in the air in a tight embrace.
The gathered Vigilants of Stendarr watched in stunned silence as the two friends, separated for so long, were finally reunited. Some wiped away tears, while others simply stood in awe at the raw emotion on display. Inigo gently set Cura down, both of them still clinging to each other, tears streaming down their faces as they laughed and cried simultaneously.
"Oh, my dear friend." Inigo managed between sobs, holding her at arm's length to look at her, taking in every detail as if to confirm she was real. "I never... I never thought... I would see you again." He cupped her face with his hands, the ring on his finger now pulsing with a warm, gentle light. Her cheeks were warm to the touch, as though she had never died in the first place. It was a surreal thing to behold. "I... I mean, I know you said you would be back, but I... did not think it was possible... and I did. Ugh. It is weird!"
"I... I missed you so much..." Cura choked out, fresh tears falling as she reached up to place her hands over his. "All of you..." her eyes scanned Vilja, Colette Marence, Phinis Gestor, and all the gathered Vigilants. She quickly picked up on the New faces she'd never seen before: Keeper Ciirta, Raelynne, Bazur, Vidkun, the Knight of the Void, and Illia.
Vilja held a hand over her heart, and she slowly stepped forward. "Cura. Welcome back. I have missed you so much!"
She smiled softly at the two friends, and it was clear that she too had tears in her eyes, though she was trying to keep her emotions in check. She glanced over at Colette and Phinis, who were both grinning broadly, Phinis with a hand over his mouth and Colette beaming proudly.
"I knew you'd make it back, I just knew it!" Colette exclaimed with her shrill voice, practically bouncing on her feet with excitement. "A good Restoration Mage can never be bolted down forever!"
"But... she came back from the dead. This is more akin to Conjuration Magic." Phinis argued with his colleague.
"It's Divine Magic, so it falls under Restoration!" Colette protested.
"But she came here from Oblivion, didn't she? Conjuration." Phinis proclaimed again.
As Cura took in the emotional scene unfolding before her, a sense of relief and joy settled over the chamber. The Vigilants, their faces a mix of disbelief and elation, began to filter out, murmuring amongst themselves about the miracle that has just occurred. Keeper Ciirta, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears, approached Cura, her steps measured and deliberate. She extended her hand, "Vigilant Cura, it is my honour to finally meet you. I am Keeper Ciirta, of Stendarr's Beacon." The words came out softly, tinged with awe and deep respect. "Your actions in Coldharbour... they have already become the stuff of legend. We are all in your debt for what you've done."
As she spoke, the chamber fell silent, every Vigilant present hanging on her words.
Cura, still somewhat disoriented, managed a weak smile. "I... I'm just glad to be back. To see my friends again. To see the beauty of Skyrim..." her words trailed off as her mind wandered to the outside. "Actually, can we all go outside?"
"Of course." Keeper Ciirta led the way, her steps measured and purposeful as she navigated the winding corridors of Stendarr's Beacon. The group followed closely behind, a mix of excitement and reverence hanging heavy in the air. For the first time in a long while, Cura felt the sensation of snow crunching underneath her feet. The fresh mountain air filled her lungs as she descended the snow-dusted stone steps of the Beacon's entrance, and she looked upon the blue skies littered with small cirrus clouds. The autumnal forest of the Rift below the snow-covered mountain greeted her with a beautiful splash of colour that she had sorely missed during her months in the desert hellscape of Coldharbour.
Cura knelt down and removed her gauntlet. With her bare flesh she pushed her hand into the snow and pulled a small chunk of it out of the mass of white. She smirked, and began to roll it up into a ball in the palm of her hand, and she whirled around and tossed it at Inigo, hitting him in the chest.
Inigo stood there, stunned as the snow slid off his cuirass. Cura began to giggle at the expression on his face. "Cura! I can't believe you actually hit me with that! How did I not see it coming?" Inigo sputtered, his shock giving way to a broad grin. He quickly knelt and grabbed a handful of snow, packing it into a tight ball before launching it at her with a flick of his wrist. The snowball whizzed through the air, aiming directly for her face.
The snowball hit Cura square in the cheek, and she flinched as the cold instantly spread across her skin. She quickly put her gauntlet back on, and began to mold another snowball.
"Snowball fight!" Vilja exclaimed with a gleeful laugh as she began to form a snowball herself, and she hurled it at Illia.
Inigo growled playfully, "I am going to make you all into popsicles!"
Illia deftly dodged the second snowball, a laugh escaping her lips as Vilja's projectile sailed past her and splattered against the wall of the Beacon. She lobbed her own snowball, which struck Inigo on the shoulder. The other Vigilants looked on in amusement as the group reveled in the simple joy of the moment.
Vilja chortled gleefully at her own accurate throw, which splattered on the back of Inigo's head, while Illia took a moment to marvel at the sheer absurdity of the situation - the mightiest warriors of Skyrim reduced to gleeful children, giggling and pelting each other with snowballs in a moment of carefree merriment.
The snowball fight continued in earnest, with laughter and playful taunts filling the air. Cura, her cheeks flushed from the cold and exertion, ducked behind a nearby Workbench to avoid another barrage from Inigo. She peeked around the slab of steel, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Is that all you've got, Inigo?" she called out, her voice laced with mock bravado. "I've faced Mudcrabs more fearsome than that!" Cura's heart raced as she peered out from behind the workbench, snow clinging to her eyebrows and eyelashes. Inigo's laughter rang out, and she caught sight of him crouching behind a pile of barrels, his eyes glinting with mischief as he formed another snowball.
Illia grinned mischievously as she finished forming a perfectly round iceball with her hands, the cold biting into her skin. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it sailing towards Cura, who was still taking cover behind the workbench. The icy projectile struck the side of the bench with a satisfying thud, spraying shards of ice and snow into the air.
"Nice shot!" Cura called out, ducking lower to avoid the spray. "You might have come closer to killing me there than Vernaccus." She chuckled, her breath visible in the cold air. The temperature had dropped significantly, and frost crystals now coated every surface in a glittering coat of winter's beauty.
Inigo emerged from behind the barrels, his face split into a wide grin. "Careful what you wish for, my dear! I'm about to unleash the full might of my... superhuman snowball-throwing abilities!" He held his crossbow forward, snowballs lined on the string in the place of Bolts.
He fired a snowball at Cura, and she blocked it with Spellbreaker. As the snowball shattered against Spellbreaker's face, Cura couldn't help but grin. The icy shards cascaded to the ground, glinting in the light. "Well, that was a close call!" she called out, chuckling. "I shudder to think what would've happened if that had struck me."
Inigo smirked, reloading another snowball onto his crossbow. "Why, you'd have been sent to Sovngarde early, of course!"
"Nah, I've already been there and done that." Cura chuckled. She loosed Spellbreaker from her grip and clutched her mace with both hands.
"Here, Inigo. One from me." Illia winked and handed him a Frost-reinforced Iceball.
Inigo fired the Iceball at Cura and she swung her mace, batting for a homerun. Cura's mace connected with the snowball, sending it flying back towards Inigo with surprising speed and force. The icy projectile struck him square in the chest, exploding into a puff of powdery snow that coated his armor and sent him stumbling backwards with a startled yelp.
"Oof! That's more like it!" Inigo sputtered, brushing the snow from his face and grinning. "I'd say you've got quite the arm there, my friend. Somebody should make a sport of this!"
His comment sparked an idea in Cura's mind. "You know, Inigo," she mused, her mace still at her side, "that's not such a bad idea. We could organize some kind of... winter festival at Dawnstar... once the madness is over with, of course."
"Oh, now you're speaking my language!" Inigo's face lit up. "A proper celebration with snowball fights, feasts, and perhaps even some friendly archery competitions! We could even get the whole city involved! And lots and lots of Sweetrolls!" Inigo's excitement was infectious, and it spread to those around them.
Cura hung her mace on her hip. "Ahhh, that was nice." She wiped a stinging tear from the corner of her eye. "I've really missed your jolliness, Inigo."
Inigo smiled warmly at her words, his usual playful grin softening into something more genuine. "And I've missed you, old friend. I can't tell you how many times I've wished we could have a proper adventure together again. The whole group, really."
Cura's thoughts turned briefly to the others, and she composed herself. She turned to Illia and to the Knight of the Void. "I think we ought to be introduced. I know neither of you."
As Cura spoke, Gabrielle stepped forward, her hidden eyes scanning Cura with a mix of curiosity and respect. "Thou art Cura Stormcloak, for true." she acknowledges, her voice carrying a faint echo of ancient times. "I have heard thy name, thy deeds resonating throughout Tamriel. The Dragonnorn. T'would be my honour to fight alongside thee. I am Gabrielle Clement, known to many as the Knight of the Void. Mine tale is a harrowing one, but if thou wishes to hear it, merely ask of me."
Cura paused for a few seconds as her words registered. "Sure, I'd like to know your story; judging by the fact you're a Breton in a Daedric armour, I'll bet it's a fascinating one." Gabrielle nodded, "I will tell thee during a time of privacy. For now, thou hast much to tend to."
Cura nodded, "Yes... I do." She turned to Illia. "And you... how did you come to join us? I'm curious."
Illia nodded, "I was a sorceress from Darklight Tower, not too far from here. I turned against my mother's coven and Inigo helped me... and likely saved my life, as well." She smiled at the blue Khajiit. "He offered me a place in the group, and I accepted. I want to help, in any way I can."
Cura's expression softened at Illia's words, understanding the pain and sacrifice that came with such a choice. "You've made the right choice. We're all here for the same reason - to protect and to serve. I'm glad to have you with us." She turned to Inigo, who had been listening attentively. "And what happened to Lucien and Serana?"
"Serana returned to the Master Wizard's office in Winterhold - where the Wretched Spire refugees are. And Lucien is working on building an army of Dwarven Mechs to help fight the Daedra." Inigo explained. Inigo's words hung in the air for a moment as Cura processed the information. The idea of an army of Dwarven Mechs was both impressive and slightly unsettling. She could only imagine the destruction they might unleash on the battlefield, but if it meant turning the tide against the Daedra, perhaps it was a necessary evil.
Cura nodded slowly, "I see. Well, we'll need all the help we can get."
Whenever she thought of those mechs, the spirit-breaking memory of a javelin piercing through her body entered her mind. She'd never forgotten her and Lydia's expedition into Nchuand-Zel, and the Ballista which struck her. Even now, it caused her to shiver more than the cold air ever could.
Author's Note: this is in reference to events within "Chapter 26: A Ray of Light Part 2"
Inigo noticed her slight shudder and immediately tensed, his hand instinctively moving to his bow. "Cura, are you alright? Did something just happen?"
Cura composed herself quickly, pushing the dark memories aside. "I'm fine, Inigo. Just... old ghosts." She turned to Illia, changing the subject. "Tell me about yourself, Illia. What kind of magic do you specialize in? And how long have you been with us now?"
"Frost magic." Illia said plainly. "And, not long. A few weeks."
Cura wondered where her allies from Coldharbour were. Did they step through the portal? She walked to the ramparts and overlooked the forest below, her eyes scanning for Carcette, Sir Amiel, Varla, Sabrina, or anyone else.
As she scanned the horizon, a flicker of color caught her eye. There, in the distance, a small group of figures emerged from the treeline. Cura squinted, trying to make out the approaching figures. They seemed to be moving with purpose, their forms growing more distinct as they drew nearer to the Beacon. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she recognized the group - it was Carcette, leading the pack with her usual determined stride. Behind her marched Sabrina, her dark robes whipping in the wind, and Sir Amiel, his armor glinting in the sunlight. Behind him, Sir Henrik and Sir Ralvas traversed the autumnal grasses, and Varla followed behind, in his White Hound Varla, and Gloriel, walked through, observing the Dawnguard and Vigilants in the field.
The Volkihar Vampires, Abbot Silorn, and the Gray Prince were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the return to Nirn had scattered the groups?
Cura's heart soared at the sight of her loyal companions. They were back in the mortal world, ready to begin their newest mission. As they drew closer, she could see the familiar glint of their weapons and the unmistakable swagger of her most trusted allies. She turned to Inigo and Vilja, who had joined her at the ramparts. "Look, Inigo! My friends from Coldharbour."
Cura began to wave her arms, and she shouted out to them from above. "UP HERE, YOU GUYS!"
The group below looked up and spotted her, their faces lighting up with joy. Carcette's commanding voice carried up to the ramparts. "Cura! Awake, and well, I see!" She raised a hand in greeting, her silver-threaded hair catching the morning light.
Sabrina and Sir Amiel quickened their pace, their faces alight with relief and excitement. The group rushed up the slope and met Cura at the top of the mountain, in front of Stendarr's Beacon.
Sir Amiel stopped just short of her, standing tall over the others.
"Long have I languished in the wastes of Coldharbour, never a spared thought that I'd ever see Nirn again..." Sir Amiel exhaled deeply. "Your time period... the landscape itself... it is beautiful."
"Then do not go further North, friend." Inigo chuckled. "It is a place full of holes."
Sir Amiel was silent for a second, and he stared at the blue Khajiit.
Sabrina came up beside him, clutching both of her arms, trying to insulate her body heat. "Gods above, Cura! You never said Skyrim was this cold!" Even behind her birdlike mask, her teeth could be heard chattering.
The others crowded around her, a warm commotion of embraces and friendly slaps on the back. Carcette was the first to step forward, her hand coming to rest on Cura's shoulder. "It's wonderful to be back home." Her eye, as grey as steel, glistened with emotion as she spoke.
Gloriel the Valkyrie stood beside them, her golden armor gleaming in the morning light. "Champion, you have more than held up your end of the bargain. I have long missed the beautiful rays of the sun..."
Vilja sighed and spoke again, her words thick with emotion. "Cura... I still can't believe you're really here. We thought we'd lost you for good. It's... so crazy to wrap my head around it!"
Sabrina paused for a moment and stepped up to Inigo, sizing him up and down. "Blue fur, black stripes... a bow on his back... are you Inigo?"
Inigo's ears perked up at being recognized, and he gave a flourishing bow. "At your service, fair maiden! I am indeed Inigo, the dashing and daring adventurer you've no doubt heard so much about." He flashed a charming grin, winking at Cura.
Sabrina chuckled a bit, "Should a little Crow like me be worried in the presence of a Cat?"
Cura laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I think you'll get along just fine." Cura clapped her hands, "Okay, so - introductions are in order. This is Sir Amiel, Sir Henrik, and Sir Ralvas; remaining members of the Knights of the Nine. Yes - those Knights of the Nine!" She introduced the three Paladins.
Sir Henrik took a sip of ale. "Mm-hmm. That is me. I am Sir Henrik. Knight of Julianos. It feels good to be back in the North, even after so much time has passed. Mm-hmm."
Sir Ralvas chuckled, "I am the Knight of Zenithar. I may have... lost my head for a time, but I am all there now."
Vilja tilted her head. "Oh... I'm sorry. I suppose being in Coldharbour would be enough to make anybody explode with anger. At least you can relax now!"
Sir Ralvas spoke soflty, "No. I mean it; I literally lost my head." He made a slitting motion across his neck with his finger, and Vilja cringed with horror.
"Ew, That's gross!" Vilja remarked.
Cura's eyes softened as she looked at the group of her companions gathered around her. The tension in the air was palpable, but there was also a sense of hope and camaraderie.
"Let's not focus on the past," she said, her voice firm yet gentle. "We have a new beginning now, and we must cherish it."
Sir Amiel nodded, his eyes reflecting the wisdom of countless battles. "Indeed, my lady." He cleared his throat. "I was the leader of the Knights, and the Knight of Akatosh."
Inigo seemed to register something. "A-ha! Knight of Akatosh, are you? It makes sense that you would follow my friend, then! Cura is a delightful person to be around, even if she is louder than a bear and more stubborn than a donkey."
"Hey!" Cura retorted. Cura's laughter echoed through the wind, a sound both familiar and comforting to her companions. "Well, I suppose I do have my moments," she admitted, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Next, she turned to Gloriel. "So - this is Gloriel. She was a Champion of Meridia, and the first wielder of Dawnbreaker!"
"Wait, so she was lighting up Draugr like Saturalia trees long before you?" Inigo asked.
Upon hearing that, Sabrina snorted under her mask. "Oh... I think I like him."
Cura's eyes sparkled with amusement as she watched the exchange between Inigo and Sabrina. "Well, it's true. Gloriel was one of the most formidable Champions of Meridia, and her prowess with Dawnbreaker was unmatched."
Gloriel, standing tall and proud, nodded in acknowledgment. "Indeed, it was an honour to wield such a powerful artifact. Dawnbreaker's light has illuminated many dark places, and its power has saved countless lives." She placed a hand on Cura's shoulder. "But I believe in your cause, Dragonborn. There is none more deserving to wield it than you."
Cura gestured finally, to Varla. "And last but not least, this is Varla! He's been with us through thick and thin. His skills in battle and his unwavering loyalty have been invaluable in getting through Coldharbour."
Inigo's eyes widened with recognition, as did Gabrielle's.
"Wait..." Inigo pointed at the large Half-Elven man. "This is the Varla we have heard about? The son of Mara?"
A small gasp escaped Gabrielle's throat when the enormity of the situation registered.
Varla shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, his usual sarcastic demeanor giving way to a rare display of humility. "That's right," he admitted, his voice tinged with a mixture of pride and trepidation. "I've been keeping company with this lot, and I've seen things... things I never imagined I'd see."
Gloriel nodded in solidarity. "We've all been through trials, my friends. But together, we've faced the impossible and emerged stronger." Gabrielle tapped Inigo on the shoulder. "Inigo, I must take my leave for a time. I shall be beneath the Beacon if thou hast need of me."
Inigo was confused for a moment, but he accepted it. "O-kaaay."
Varla furrowed his brows. "Was it something I said? What was that about?" He scratched the back of his neck in confusion. He was certain that he'd done nothing wrong.
"Er, well - Gabrielle has a complicated history with Mara." Inigo explained briefly. "She used to be one of her Sibyls, but was abducted and tormented for millennia by Mehrunes Dagon."
"Gods..." Sabrina muttered. "...that sounds familiar."
Varla's expression softened, his usual sarcasm replaced with genuine sympathy. "That's rough," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced at Gabrielle, who was already walking away, her tarnished silver armor reflecting the sunlight as she headed towards the Beacon. "These Daedric Princes are real pieces of work."
Inigo remembered, "Ah, Dinya and Maramal will want to meet you, Varla! You are quite the celebrity in Riften now, courtesy of Cura."
Cura was confused. "How?"
"The Long-Distance Call Lucien did at the Bee & Barb, silly." Inigo tapped her on the arm.
Varla, still reeling from his recent revelations, could only chuckle in disbelief. "I didn't think I'd live to see the day I'd be a celebrity... and for something that didn't involve slaughter. This is... surreal."
He looked around at the assembled group, his usual gruff demeanor softening slightly as he took in the expressions of his companions. "So... who are these people? Dinya and Maramal?"
"They are the Priest and Priestess of the Temple of Mara in Riften." Inigo explained. No sooner did the words leave his mouth than Varla's mind sparked with recognition. His mother's words echoed through his mind: "If you ever wish to speak with me again, go to the Temple of Mara in Riften, and pray."
Cura nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Well, I'm sure they'll be delighted to meet you, Varla. Your story has certainly made an impression."
She glanced over at the Beacon, where Gabrielle had disappeared. "It seems we have a bit of a break now. Perhaps this would be a good time to rest and regroup."
Sabrina stretched languidly. "I second that. I'm freezing my buttocks off out here."
Keeper Ciirta stepped outside and approached Carcette. She nodded respectfully. "Keeper Carcette, it's good to see you again!"
"I am no longer Skyrim's Keeper, Keeper Ciirta." Carcette reminded her. "I am no longer even a Vigilant, really."
Keeper Ciirta rubbed between her eyebrows. "Right. My apologies; it was a force of habit."
"I'm sorry about Father Jacob." Carcette spoke her condolences. Her uncanny knowledge surprised Ciirta, but the young Keeper accepted her well-wishes regardless.
Keeper Ciirta nodded solemnly. "Yes, it was a great loss. He was a fine man and a dedicated follower of Stendarr." She paused, then asked curiously, "If I may ask, how did you come to know of Father Jacob's passing? I don't believe the news has spread beyond the Beacon yet."
Carcette hesitated briefly before responding. "The truth is, I learned of it from the Grand Library of Jyggalag."
Keeper Ciirta arched her brow. "Jyggalag? The Daedric Prince of Order?"
Carcette nodded solemnly. "Yes. I was... summoned there, I suppose you could say. It was a harrowing experience, but one that led me to this moment."
Ciirta's eyes widened with disbelief. "Summoned? By Jyggalag himself?" She glanced around, as if expecting the Daedric Prince to materialize. "I... I don't even know what to say to that." She paused for a few moments, "And even more still... what Vigilant Cura is wearing... that armour... I've never seen anything like it. And... that Red Diamond around her neck... that can't possibly be..."
"The Amulet of Kings." Carcette confirmed.
Keeper Ciirta gawked. "Gods above...!" The wind was knocked out of her by the mere notion of the elusive artifact's return. After all, is was destroyed at the end of the Third Era to avert the Oblivion Crisis. Her eyes fell upon Inigo's glowing pocket, where he stored the Ring of Stendarr's Mercy that she'd given him as a gift. The Ring once worked to bind a protective Seal on the Amulet eons ago.
Ciirta's awe-struck gaze shifted to Cura, who stood regally, the Amulet of Kings gleaming like a captured sunrise around her neck. Cura noticed the young Keeper's reverence and offered a reassuring smile. "It's a lot to take in, I know," she said softly, her voice echoing over the Jerall Mountains. "But let's not forget why we're all here."
The sun bathed the Jerall Mountains in golden light. Cura, resplendent in her white and golden armor and the Amulet of Kings around her neck, turned to address her allies. "We stand here today at the threshold of a new era. The Amulet of Kings has returned, and with it, the opportunity to restore peace to Tamriel." She looked at each of her companions in turn, her gaze intense and determined. "We've faced the Vampires, the Dragons, and the darkest forces of Oblivion. Now, we must confront the challenges that lie ahead - Mehrunes Dagon, the Thalmor, the Stormcloaks, and the Empire. But I have faith in you all. Together, we can forge a future where all of Tamriel can live in harmony." She looked over the high peaks of the Jerall Mountains. "This is my dream; a world where justice reigns supreme, where truth is upheld, and where all races can prosper without fear of persecution." She reached out to Vilja, to Illia, to Sir Amiel, Sir Ralvas, Sir Henrik, to Varla, to Carcette, to Sabrina, to Gloriel, and to Inigo. "Won't you all help me realize this dream?"
Her words carried across the winds, and the assembled group of warriors and mages nodded solemnly.
Inigo stepped forward, his face set in a serious mask. "You have our full support, Cura. You always have. Inigo is the cat that will always come back, the very next day." He grinned, and the group chuckled softly.
Vilja cut the laughs short. "But we should be prepared for what's to come. The Thalmor won't take kindly to a new Empress of Tamriel, especially one with your... unique background. Being a Nord and Altmer yourself."
Cura's gaze hardened slightly at the mention of her past, but she maintained her composure. "I'm well aware of the challenges ahead, Vilja. But I've faced far worse than the Thalmor." She sighed, "And we'll be facing worse than them before that even becomes a thought. For now..." She tucked the Amulet of Kings underneath the white cloth over her armour. "...I'll keep this hidden."
Inigo's grin widened, but he held his laughter in check. "Well, you know what they say, 'The cat that is out of sight is not always out of mind.' But maybe it is best to keep the world guessing for now."
Sir Henrik hummed in agreement, "Hmm, indeed. The element of surprise is a powerful ally." He adjusted his shield, the metal clinking softly against the armor. "Mm. But I'm sure people in your time will be a little... surprised to see you up and about."
Cura nodded, "I'm certain they will. And on that thought, I'd like to know exactly what's going on."
Inigo threw his arm around her shoulder. "My friend, I will be more than happy to fill you in on all the juicy little details, but first I think we should go to the Bee & Barb for a nice Mead! And a Sweetroll! What do you say?"
Cura smiled and nodded, "Throw an Apple Dumpling or two in there and I'd be glad."
Inigo clapped his hands together, his face lighting up. "Brilliant! We'll make it a proper feast! I can already taste those sweet, buttery morsels melting on my tongue!" He turned to the group, his enthusiasm spilling over. "Everyone is coming, right? It's time to celebrate! We have got so much to discuss and even more to drink! It will be like one of those Saturalia parties, but nobody will be getting cheese shoved in their ears! ...I think?" The group laughed, but Cura noticed that some of her companions seemed hesitant.
Cura's brow furrowed slightly as she noticed the hesitation in some of her companions' expressions. She glanced at Inigo, a hint of concern in her eyes. "Are you sure this is the best time for a feast? We've just returned from a perilous journey, and there's much to be done..."
Inigo waved a dismissive hand, his grin never faltering. "Nonsense! We've earned this, my friend. Us here in Skyrim for the insanity we've been dealing with, and you guys literally going through Oblivion."
Sir Henrik raised a bottle of Ale. "A Cat after my own heart, hmm hmm." The jolly knight chuckled and hummed. "If there's anything worth celebrating, it's coming back from Oblivion in one piece!" He patted Cura's arm gently. "And I would love to raise a tankard in your name, my lady. We owe our freedom to your benevolence. Mm-hmm!"
Cura couldn't help but smile, her features relaxing slightly as she witnessed Sir Henrik's unrelenting cheer despite their grim situation. "All right; to Riften we go. But I'm going to be extra sure to hide the Adabal there. I'll never forget the time the thieves stole my Amulet of Stendarr."
"It was not all bad, my friend. After all, that is how we met!" Inigo reminisced fondly.
Cura nodded with a warm smile as she recounted their shared History, "That's true. I won't protest that." She sighed and added, "We've really come a long way since then, haven't we?"
"Indeed we have," Inigo agreed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "From a Skooma-addicted mercenary to a champion of the gods, and from a Vigilant of Stendarr to the Dragonborn of Legend! Quite the journey."
Sabrina stared at Inigo with a spike of intrigue upon hearing his origins.
Cura laughed softly, her golden armor catching the light as she turned to survey the group. "I'm just glad to have you all here with me. Especially you, Inigo. Your wit and loyalty have been invaluable over the past couple of years. I feel like I've known you a lifetime."
"Well, I have known you for Seven Lifetimes. Let's be careful with the last two, okay?" the blue Khajiit said with a laugh.
Cura shrugged, "I can't promise you anything, Inigo, but I will try to make them worth living."
"You already have, my friend. You already have." Inigo's eyes softened and he began to walk alongside his best friend once again.