Michael Wilson

The doors were unlocked as she entered these sacred halls of the Greybeards. She walked forward towards a large chamber where there were runic symbols burned on the floor. They began to burn brighter with their own inner flame as she approached them.

Then it began, a chorus of words filled her mind, she heard voices all around her but saw no one there. They were like echoes from the past, all singing as she approached the blazing symbols. She felt forced to her knees before its power.

She heard in her mind, “Fus is the first word. It is known as Force and will help you bend your inner will to a force, Ro is for Balance, a way to focus your inner will towards something, and Dah or Push is the final word. It will allow you to push away anything you do not want to reach you. Together, ‘Fus, Ro, Dah’ is an ‘Unrelenting Force’ able to push aside anything or anyone that stands in your path.”

All around her she heard voices she recognized, some she didn’t, “The prophecy that had foretold was now fulfilled, the line of kings and queens of the dragon blood shall be restored, this shattered age shall pass, as Dovah, the Dragon of this Age takes upon her the mantel of ‘The Way Of The Voice’.”

She felt her blood boiling from within. A great force came flowing out of her forcing her to raise her head towards the open air above. She heard herself say, “Fus, Ro, Dah” and a great force indeed went forth and the foundations of the world shook, the stone from the ceilings and walls around her were cracked from its power and she knew then, that she had in part discovered something profound, something different this time. She sensed that with her, the words of the Dovah would flow like a stream or a crushing wave.  

She then stood by strength of will and walked towards another set of doors. She was feeling a bit light headed from all that had just occurred. When she opened the doors, she looked upon a great courtyard, and there between two pillars and before a gate were more blazing symbols calling to her.

She approached them, she heard the voices again, this time clearer, and she thought she heard others above her, speaking in the tongues of dragons but she saw nothing before her eyes only with her mind, like before. 

She heard the words again teaching her, becoming part of who she was, “Wund, which means Whirlwind to push yourself forward at great speed, Nah or Fury, with which to stir the air around you so that it allows you to pass through anything in your path. The last was Kest or Tempest, the storm of your speed spinning away time and space before you. Together they are’ Whirlwind Sprint’ a ‘Thu’um’ that will rush you forward, carrying you in its wake with the speed of a tempest.

The words settled into her blood and into her being. She didn’t feel the compulsion to declare them as she had the others. She explored the courtyard more and discovered as she approached a tower with an open arch and a whirling, howling, mist, and wind beyond it another set of burning runes.

She was beginning to feel really dizzy now, weakened by the process of learning all these words of power. She heard a voice say to her, “Lok or Sky. The word that yields the winds before you. Vah or Spring. In it you can calm the storm before you. Koor or Summer. It will clear away any fog or inclement weather.

Together these make up the words of power of Clear Skies. With it the winds and weather yield before you” There was a rush of wills that came upon her. She felt so weak and knelt with head bowed in silence attempting to recover herself.

Then she heard a lady’s voice that said, “These words will clear the way before you. You must first go to the top of the tower and meditate on what has happened here. Afterwards, you must use the new words of power to clear the path to the ‘Throat of the World’ where you will learn more about your destiny.”

She stood up slowly, still unsteady from all that had happened to her on this day. She felt numbed to the core by it all. She didn’t even think she was thinking much anymore, just acting on instinct.

She followed the instructions and made her way into the tower and climbed the winding stairs to the top. There was a small courtyard of sorts and an open spot before her. She walked forward then knelt. She understood, this is where she was to meditate. To contemplate the deeper meanings of what had occurred that day.

She meditated in silence and despite the cold, the exhaustion of having so much happened to her, she felt at peace with herself, almost whole again. Then the lady’s voice spoke to her once more.

“When you return from the ‘Throat of the World’ go to the living quarters of the Greybeards, there you will find a book sitting at the end, this will be the final chapter to help you fulfill your destiny.”

She knelt in silence but then asked, “May I ask you who you are?” There was silence, then a voice said gently, almost sadly, “My girl, our family, you are of our blood, you are she who will complete the fulfillment of the age. That which was promised before the betrayal of that covenant of the last one. Go now, there will be food, a place to bathe if you would like, and warm beds and clothing to rest through the night. You are safe here in this sacred place. Know that we watch over you and are always here with you.”

She began the long journey up the seven thousand steps. The pilgrim’s meditation as the residents of Ivarstead used to affectionately call it according to the books and journals she had read.

Many Nords will have made this journey at least in part before they become too old to do so. It was considered a part of becoming a Nord. To understand their heretic roots that reached back to Atmora and earlier beliefs where there existed a bond between nature and man. With that bond came great gifts, and with those gifts came great responsibility.

It had been written that reading the words of all ten ancient stones on the way up to High Hrothgar would grant a single blessing that would last for twenty-four hours. The blessing would become known as the “Voice of the Sky”. Its blessing would bestow the ability to have animals neither attack nor flee from you.

As she approached the first stone the emblem’s words held great power for her. She read and absorbed, “Before the birth of men, the Dragons ruled all Mundus.” She thought, “Dragons were said to the immortal children of Akatosh, the first Aedra (God). According to the writings of Archmage Shalidor, Dragons existed before the advent of sequential time in the Dawn Era. The Dawn Era, also known as the Dawn Age, Beginning Time, or Chaos Times, was a period marked by the laws of nature remaining unset, thus time was an artificial fabrication created to help bring order to the void.

The second stone read, “Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus (The plane or realm of man). The Dragons presided over the crawling masses. Men were weak then and had no Voice (The speech of the Dragons).”

She had noticed the air was getting thin, meaning less of it to breathe. It held a great cold, but the Nords, as it was written, had once held a closer relationship to the elements and thus did not feel it or its effects as other races did.

She came to the third stone, whose emblem read, “The fledgling spirits of Men were strong in Old Times (The Merethic Era, a period of narrative history). Unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices. But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts.” This referred to the power of “The Voice”, a language whose words were etched with power and intent.

The fourth emblem read, “Kyne (the Nordic goddess of the Storm and chief deity of the Nordic pantheon.) called on Paarthunax (Second born, and lieutenant of Alduin, the World Eater.) who pitied Man. Together they taught Men to use “The Voice.” Then the Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue (Known as the Thu’um or Storm Voice.)”

She remembered in her reading; this was when man first learned the tongue of the Dragons and how to use it as the Dragons did. Its power could be used for a variety of purposes, sharpening blades to quickly traveling across the land, even controlling animals, or calling down great storms from the heavens.”

Her pilgrimage continued, the fifth stone and emblem read, “Man prevailed, shouting Alduin, first born, out of the world. Proving for all that their Voice too was strong. Although their sacrifices were many-fold.”

She thought, “this also meant she was halfway up the seven thousand stairs to the ancestral home of the Greybeards. The closer you get to that place, the more she read of the emblems on the stones along the path, the more she became aware, alive again. It’s as if there is a slow healing of a deep scar.”

When she arrived at the sixth emblem, it read, “With roaring Tongues, the Sky-Children (Nords consider themselves to be the children of the sky.) conquer. Founding the First Empire (Nordic lands of Skyrim) with sword and Voice. Whist the Dragons withdrew from the World.”

She was getting closer now. She sensed a great change beginning to take place on the plane of Mundus. The seventh emblem read, “The Tongues at Red Mountain (The highest mountain). Went away humbled. Jurgen Windcaller (The first Dragonborn of the first age) began his Seven Year Meditation. To understand how Strong Voices could fail.

At the eighth stone she read, “Jurgen Windcaller chose silence and returned as Jurgen the Calm. The seventeen disputants could not shout Him down. He built his home of the Throat of the World (The highest peak of Tamriel).

It took most of the day for her to climb the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar. As she came around a cliff face, she saw it though just ahead. She felt that surge of energy from within. She thought, “This is different somehow, as if I have arrived home.”

As she made the final approach, she stopped near the entry to see a statue of Talos that had been built behind the ninth stone of knowledge as she called them.

It read, “For years all silent, the Greybeards (Monks who followed the Way of The Voice) spoke one name, Tiber Septim (Known as Talos Stormcrown), stripling then, was summoned to Hrothgar. They blessed and named him Dohvakiin (Dragonborn).”

She took the last steps to the tenth and final stone and emblem and upon reading it, “The Voice is worship. Follow the Inner path, Speak only in True Need.” With it she knelt and felt the last of her scars healed and a glow surrounded her and pulsed from within her.

It was a couple of hours later after she had made her way up and over the snowy pass, she came down upon a place that stopped her in her tracks. She felt pulled towards it. Like there was something important that happened here before.   

She came upon the first sign that confirmed she was on the right way to Ivarstead.

She thought, “The road should begin to descend now. She knew she was getting closer to finding out more about who she was, why she couldn’t remember so many things, and who was this person that preceded me that set so many things in motion and how was I connected to her?”

As she continued another couple of hours to the aspen woodlands that surrounded the town of Ivarstead, she wondered, “What will I find there, a town of people, maybe some answers to what they knew.” She pondered that question briefly than thought, “No, more likely another destroyed town, but maybe not, Ivarstead was not of any strategic importance that she was aware of.”

She saw what looked like it may be the town ahead. A great roar broke the silence of the wooded land surrounding the road. Her shield and sword were in hand, and she felt something within her come to life. A flood of energy she had never felt before. A great bear, then a pack of wolves descended on her as she went into a blur of motion. Suddenly, it was quiet again. All she could hear was her breathing from the effort and the bear and wolves laid dead around her.

She thought to herself while standing there, trying to recollect what had just happened. “She should be dead after that or at the very least, mortally wounded. I moved so fast. It was as if they were standing still around me. “

She slid her sword back in its sheath. She continued until she came to a bridge that crossed the river here, she could see the town just ahead, another broken-down burned-out rubble.

She felt her mood drop in disappointment and mused, “Maybe I’ll find some evidence of what happened here. I will likely have to setup camp here for the evening before taking the long trip up the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar.”

She pauses a bit more letting her sight, sound, and smell sense her surroundings. She thought, “What would have been the justification for destroying so much of this part of Tamriel? Why was it so important to ensure the death of a whole nation? To what purposes was it done?”

She then noticed the light was slipping away as the sun fell behind the peaks of the high mountains that Ivarstead was built in. She had better make her way into town and set up camp for the trip tomorrow.

She made her way through the town slowly, looking around as she went. When she reached the mill and the last home and farm before the wilderness began, she became emotionally overwhelmed by the loss, emptiness that permeated everything around her and fell to her knees.

She felt her eyes fill up with the tears of all those lost in this town, then cried out, “Why, why is this happening? What you’re asking is too much, too much for anyone, what can one person do when so many before me have failed?

She stayed there and felt the weight of what she had experienced over the last couple of days pushing down on her spirit. She thought, I need to get up and find a good area to camp for the night. She made camp behind what used to be the inn in town. There was running water. An old forge that had gone bone cold and several good places to defend herself if that became something.

Her night was peaceful though, and the stars and moon slipped back asleep as the first morning light began to rise. She didn’t take long to supply herself, check her armor and weapons and begin the journey. 

She mused to herself,” I believe I need to shed this armor into something more comfortable. Maybe I can find a dress or gown where I can soak myself in the warm waters of the hot tub.”

She had found a beautiful gown in a wardrobe located in the small building alongside the hot tub. She mused, “these clothes were all finely made, like those made for those born of royal blood.” She changed, stepped outside, and slowly stepped down into the hot steaming waters of the hot tub.

With each step down she felt the pain of what she had seen on this journey begin to wash away.

As she sat in its soothing waters, the warmth allowed her to close her eyes and she began to think. “She knew the history of that place, where the dream had suggested she go. The importance the Greybeards had played in protecting, teaching, and guiding those who had been discovered to have talents for what had been referred to as “The Way of The Voice.”

Then she remembered something from one of the old books, “It had been the story of ‘The Last Dragonborn’ who when first coming to High Hrothgar had been told by their leader, Arngeir, that he had been preceded by the founder of the Greybeards, Jurgen Windcaller and his teachings of a peaceful way of using the voice to celebrate the power of the gods, not those of man.”

As she sat in the warm waters, closed her eyes, her thoughts wondered of what portent this would hold on her and the future yet to be realized. Then she remembered something else, something important from the dream.

She thought, “What was it the priest said, ‘Know you this is not without precedence. There was one who came before you. In that sacred place of knowledge and learning there is a book.” She began to drift towards slumber but heard the last of it, “It will have the words of her story, her sacrifice, her destiny from a past age. Know that you are linked, you are part of their story now.’” With that she fell into a soft and peaceful slumber. Nearby a man dressed like a priest knelt attending the gardens and watching over her.

Sometime in the night she woke up, stepped out of the hot tub, dried off, went to the house, and climbed into bed to finish sleeping the previous day’s discoveries behind her.

After waking, eating something, dressing herself in her armor and weapons, she made several trips back to collect items from the fallen and to see if there was anything of value, journals, messages, letters, or maybe orders.

She brought the items back and set up a shrine of sorts in a room that seemed prepared for it. Here she laid out the weapons, armor, and other items she had taken from the dead.

She was ready, no sense in wasting any more time. She had found some other armor she now wore as well as a two-handed blade that appeared to be enchanted in some way. She figured she would go up past Helgen, up across the mountain pass there and come down into the woodlands that marked the transition to where Ivarstead was located.

She had no memory of whether she had been there in that town in the past, but what she knew from the books she found around this home was Ivarstead was most popular because it was the starting point for the seven thousand steps. It was a pilgrimage that many took in the past, to study the dragon stones that were along the long path to High Hrothgar, ancestral home of the Greybeards.

She mused for a moment, “I am just wasting more time, let’s get this journey going for it will be a while before I find my way to that place so high atop the “Throat of The World” as it was called in the books.

She headed outside, locked the home, put the key back where she had found it. She walked to the bridge that spanned across the White River running hard down towards the plains, stepped to the middle, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

She let the sounds of the water rush through her being; she sensed a great change was about to occur in the world. Just as the water flowed, not mindful of where it went, she sensed her destiny was unwinding, unmindful of her course, knowing that all paths led to the same end.

She remembers the warnings about the dread that existed in Riverwood when she passed by on her way here, so she took another path that led her up past the northern watchtower on its way to the “Bleak Falls Barrow”. She knew she could then make her way to the ruins of Helgen, head north and begin her trip to Ivarstead.

She stood outside of Helgen for a moment. She thought to herself, “This is where it all began. It is fitting that the journey towards answers also begins here. She thought,” I will have to try and make good timing over the mountain to come out in the Aspen Forest near Ivarstead.

According to some books she found, they mentioned the road to Ivarstead should have markers at specific points. This was to help travelers who were making that journey since so much around it was wilderness.

Overwhelmed, she stood up and went out the door. She soon came to an overlook that allowed her to look upon an empty land for the most part, except for all the elves. They were the only race she saw and were now working the fields and farms and guarding the way into Whiterun.

She made her way down and across the rocks and streams. She felt it would provide her with the best cover. She was coming up the line of the water and rocks when a Dominion regular spotted her. It wasn’t long before she found out how wrong her assumption had been. The soldier raised an alarm to join her in hunting down this spy from one of the unconquered lands. She let loose her arrow and then another. Both struck with a thud and the soldier fell dead.

She should be able to get closer to the city itself and discover if it held the same portent as what she had already witnessed. A land not held by the “Sons and Daughters of Skyrim” but one where the “Dominion had conquered and ensured some tainted vision of a future where elves would rule the lands of Tamriel once again.

Instead, she was thrown into a running battle. She moved with a speed and grace she didn’t know she was capable of. The arrows flew from her bow and struck the intended targets with deadly accuracy.  She could hear others in the city being aroused by the noise outside the gates.

The battle made it way to a nearby field where she defended her position with blade and shield. Her bashing clanged like a smithy’s hammer on the forge and the steel of their swords met and sparks flew from the force of those strikes.

At the end of the short battle four elves lay dead in the farmer’s field. She was confused as she collapsed to the ground crying out from within, “Why, two of these were farmers. Why did they attack me too? How much hate can one nation have for others?” She paused then screamed to herself, “I didn’t want this, not this death.” Silence fell amongst them and all that could be heard was the call of the wildlife from the nearby forests.

She thought quietly, “she had seen enough; it was time to make her way carefully back to her place of refuge so she could clean herself up and recover from what she had discovered.”

She paused, taking in the surrounding area, and deciding on moving back up past the old empty brewery. She thought to herself, “I can pick up the trails that led to where she was staying.

The dream had been correct, she was going to need something beyond strength of body and will. It would take something or others to join her to provide an edge against so many.”

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.

She found some steps in the same room leading up to a loft type area. A bedroom, with a shrine of Akatosh himself, the first being, he who came before the others sitting on a shelf above the bed. She was so tired, she still had that headache too, she still couldn’t remember what happened before she woke up in that cave. She laid her weapons up against the wall to the open end of the loft. She then loosened her armor, and let it fall on the floor, she walked over to the wardrobe, found several robes, she selected one and pulled it over her head and laid down to let sleep and her dreams take her to happier places.

She thought she had woken up. There was an old man dressed in priest clothing sitting at the chair near her bed. He watched her as she sat up and then he said, “Tomorrow, travel into the surrounding lands. Survey what betrayal has taken place by those who were supposed to be part of the past golden age. Come to know how they left the land shattered and the people lost to a war of useless slaughter.” He paused, she wondered, “who is this priest that has come into this home, into my bedroom?”

She was distressed by this priest or whatever he was. She then noticed he seemed to sense her discomfort, “Know that you are safe here with me, my time is short, I can only stay a short while but will always be listening, waiting if you need me, or us. We are all here for you. Trust in the nine.”

He pondered something then spoke again, “After returning from the day prepare yourself for a journey. Go to Ivarstead, then take the seven thousand steps up to the ancestral home of the Greybeards. There you will begin your discovery of who you are and why you are here. There, you will begin to know the blessings we have left upon you. “

He was silent for a moment then began again, “Know you this is not without precedence. In the age before, there was one who came before you. In that sacred place of knowledge and learning you will find a book. It is the only one left. It will have the words of her story, her sacrifice, her destiny from that past golden age. Know that you and she are linked, you are part of their story now.”

He paused again, then stood up and said, “Rest now our daughter, sleep in comfort and peace this night for you will need it to bear witness to what has befallen this land and its peoples. Know that we are always here, if you need us, call on us.”

She was now waking up, her headache nearly gone, she felt refreshed, alive, and ready for whatever the day would bring. She got up and changed back into her armor, then strapped her weapons on. Then she saw the chair, the memories of her dreams came roaring into her thoughts. She was nearly overwhelmed by the impact of its message and nearly swooned into darkness as the emotions almost took her away.

She recovered from that memory, stored it away for now. She knew she needed to get started to have time to scout the lands around Whiterun. It was time for her to discover what happened here.

She knelt with her bow in hand watching, listening, but there was nothing but the flow of the river, the sound of the breeze, the woodland animals, the wolves behind her higher up in the mountains beginning their evening song.” She had noticed though that there was smoke coming from the fireplace of the home. She contemplated, “It looks well care for. How did that happen in a land so shattered and torn everywhere else she had seen?”

She made her way across the bridge and then hesitated at the doorway. She looked around the doorway and saw an old parchment laying on top of a barrel set to the left of the entry door. It had a drinking cup sitting on top of it to keep it from blowing away. She slid the note out, opened it and this is what the note had written on it, “the key to your life is discovered by the light of nature’s vault.” The sun was setting and the moon was rising. The combined rays dazzled a glass jar sitting to the side of a barrel by the door.

She opened it and found a key. She thought, “odd, but okay let’s give it a try.” She slid the key into the lock and turned it. The door opened and she stepped into a world that felt so much like a home.

She stood there numb not believing what she had found, a warm fire blazing in the hearth, food sat on the table, a well adorned room that looked as if it had been lovingly cared for. She noticed the statue and blessing shrine sitting behind the table and thought to herself, “Mara, the divine mother! Was it her that had prepared this way. She was widely worshiped across Tamriel; Black Marsh, Cyrodiil, Hammerfell, High Rock, Morrowind, The Reach, and even the Summerset Isles.”

She decided to check the rest of the home to see what else was there for her to use. As she made her way down some stairs, then across a few rooms, she was stunned to find so much here. A room for storing and displaying armor and weapons, a room for companions or guards, and then she entered another room and found a full working forge; with all the tables, grindstone, and anvil to maintain her weapons and armor or make new ones.

She thought briefly, “A forge to develop the weapons of change, the armor to stand against the coming storm.” She chuckled to herself, “What am I? A philosopher now!”

She turned and walked into another area where she found a full-size shrine of Talos, an enchantment and alchemy table with another fireplace. A blazing fire lit up the room with its warmth and glow. Then she thought, “This place isn’t just a home but a shrine to the gods, they are in every room all the Aedra I am pretty sure. Why, what is happening? I need to eat and sleep soon.” She knelt before Talos and ask, “He who forged an empire guide me in this burden laid upon me.”

She made her way up and over the mountain then up towards Riverwood. It was only about fifty minutes later as she came down from the heights, she found more dead. She came upon the terrible site of a Khajiit caravan.

Its people scattered dead across the road, lying dead in the snow and dirt. As she examined the tracks, the lay of the wagons, the dead Khajiit, she could see that this had been done by something unnatural and not something that would normally be born of this world.

The warning of the dream came back to her, and she slowly slid out her sword and placed her shield in her left-hand so she could be ready. She stood there for a moment listening, but whatever had been here, killed all these Khajiit, no easy feat of itself, considering what fierce warriors they could be, had left as the woodland around was quiet, normal, nothing out of place.

Khajiit, from Ta’agra, the spoken language of them means desert dweller. They are cat-like people who come from Elsweyr, a region that lies on the southern coast of Tamriel. It is divided into two major climates: savannas, badlands, and dry plains in the north, and fertile land of jungle and rain-forests in the south.

Many of the other races commonly thought of the Khajiit as good thieves and acrobats but also known to be good sailors and fierce warriors. Although, most cities, especially in Skyrim would not have allowed them inside the city walls out of fear of being robbed blind, they were allowed to setup camp outside the gates and trade and barter their goods with the locals who liked to spend time with them.

She slid her sword back in its sheath, placed her shield on her back and continued to work her way down towards Riverwood. She decided to take a cautious approach, not knowing what to expect. She crossed the White River and made her way up above the small falls that fell off the cliff sides across from the town. She felt it would give her a good advantage to observe without being noticed before going into town or passing by.

As she arrived and took up a spot across the river from Riverwood she was shocked by the total ruin of the town. All that remained were skeletal frames of what was once people’s homes, their business, the inn. All of it appeared to be in shambles now. She watched in silence with the wind blowing through her hair. There was nothing moving in the town although the wood mill wheel was still turning.

It began to snow lightly, she thought quietly, “the tears of Riverwood falling from the heavens like snowflakes.” She thought to herself, “What happened here, just like in Helgen, ruins and rubble, no people, all of it left shattered.” She had made her way up with the snow beginning to fall lightly, the darkness was beginning to set in. She thought, “What ends was all this destruction for, what purpose did it serve to destroy so many lives, so much. There were families living there in Riverwood. What became of them I wonder?”

She looked one more time, with her eyes swelling with tears from what she had witnessed so far, “Oh Talos, what has happened to this land that was once the home of so many families? Are they all gone now, have they all gone to Sovngarde or some other place for the final rest?” She continued across the upper ridge and came across something from another age, an Oblivion Gate. She mused, “What portent does this bear upon my future and what is to come for Skyrim.”

She then went down towards an overlook she remembered would allow her to view the way down from Riverwood towards the crossroads near the Honningbrew Meadery. She mused briefly, “they made a fine ale she can remember having at the inns in Whiterun.”

As she made her way down to the overlook, there it was, the place of her dreams. She could almost hear the voice again, “Here you will stay, here you can begin to reclaim what had been lost and restore hope to this shattered land.” She continued with her thoughts, “I’ll make my way down to that outcrop below. There I can observe the place and make sure it is safe to make my way across the bridge and investigate the home and its surroundings.

She thought while observing below, “I wouldn’t think there would be anyone around since so many of the towns and its people appear to be gone, either to their final rest or migrated to some other province where they could live in peace and raise their families.”

When she awoke, she had decided to explore the lake nearby. She remembered there were two small villages there, Oakwood, a small town located in southern Skyrim, northeast of Falkreath and southwest of Whiterun. It was generally east of the North Keep and had a connection to Neurgrad Watch, a small settlement near the ruins of Fort Neurgrad.

She had taken down the wards, the campsite and made her way down to the road leading along the lake towards Oakwood. On her way she had seen an old, abandoned campsite. As she continued, she noticed a shrine of Talos setting up on the hill. She went up to see it.

When she arrived at the shrine her heart dropped, and she fell to her knees in disbelief. There at the shrine, were innocent worshipers all slaughtered. Nearby, her first evidence of what might be occurring was there. A dead Thalmor Justiciar off to the side. There was nothing she could do for them. She would see if anyone was alive in Oakwood. If so, maybe they would help her to see them buried properly, so they could find their way home again. As she neared the approach to Oakwood. Not but maybe two hundred yards from the gate, a pack of wolves attacked her.

She was surprised when a spirit wolf appeared. It attacked them fiercely. Between the two of them the wolf pack lay dead on the road into Oakwood. The spirit wolf raised its head to call into the heavens and then disappeared.

She made her way into Oakwood. The town was untouched. It was as it had been described to her in the past or maybe as she remembered. She stood there in the town center. “It seems like I’ve been here before. She wasn’t sure though. It could just be something that seemed familiar. She needed to speak with some of the people here to see what they knew of what had happened.”

She paused then and thought, “I’ll have to be careful though, I don’t want them to think I am crazy or something. Maybe I can just tell them I was knocked out by a falling branch off an old tree and had a touch of not remembering.”

She made her way towards the end of town speaking with people as she went but no one seemed to be aware of what was going on. She found the blacksmith and thought she would pay him to touch up her weapons a bit.

The blacksmith opened her eyes a bit about things. He said while working on tempering her sword, “The great war that was supposedly ended with the signing of the White Gold Concordant, was betrayed, and they invaded Skyrim. Some out of the way places like our little village, were left alone but many towns and cities were shattered. Maybe beyond return.”

He went silent after that; she noticed it seemed to take something out of him to even speak of it. Then she asked, “I’ve seen nothing but destruction and misery after coming from near Helgen. There are some dead Talos worshiper that need burial services performed. They’re up the road, the Talos shrine that stands of the hillside.”

He flinched when he heard that. Stood up and handed her the sword and said, “This should do you for a while. No payment needed. These are hard times for everyone.” He turned then and went back to work hammering out some steel on the forge. She turned, thought deeply about the wounds people were carrying. These people are numb, they don’t even want to know anymore what’s going on. Just living it day-to-day”, she thought.