She had remembered a table with a map on it near the shrine of Talos in the room below her. She decided to look at that before leaving to scout the area around her. As she drew near the table with the map on it, she noticed a book with an embossed dragon on it. The book looked to be very old. She stood there staring at it.
It was in that moment that a wave of voices overcame her, “Lingrah Krosis Saraan Strundu’ul, Voth Nid Balaan Klov Praan Nau. Naal Thu’umu, Mu Ofan Nii Nu, Dovahkiin, Naal Suleyk Do Kaan, Naal Suleyk Do Shor, Ahrk Naal Suleyk Do Atmorasewuth. Meyz Nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan Daar Rok.”
She fell to her knees in submission and felt herself lost in the clutches of these ancient voices speaking in tongues. A language that held power and intent in its meaning. A language of transformation and change.
Then she heard a single voice behind her calmly say, “Long has the Storm Crown languished with no worthy brow to sit upon. By our breath we bestow it now to you in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of old. Dovah Do Daah Bok, the Dragon of this Age. Hearken to it.”
It was a time without memory that she was lost inside herself. The voices were gone, the bright light that had filled the room was gone too. It was only her left with the realization that she had been chosen, she was now Dovah Do Daah Bok, the Dragon of this Age.
The tears filled her eyes with release. They flowed down her cheeks as she now understood that she was meant to be the instrument of the gods in this age. To bring about a reformation of intent to fulfill the prophecy of the last age, that which had been forsaken, that which had been shattered and swept aside.