Chapter I. A dragon of a different kind.

Hello everyone. A few notes to start with. English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes and encourage healthy criticism. I have had the idea for this story in my head for several years now, and I can assure you in advance that it will be finished and will not be short. I already have a plan for several dozen chapters. I want our Dovahkiin to visit previously unexplored lands, especially those barely hinted at by Martin. I want to delve into lore, so you will find here a lot of myths and legends, magic, and gods, but also politics and intrigue on a human and divine scale. My greatest ambition is to explore the Thuum and the uniqueness of the Last Dovahkiin. Voice will be much more versatile, and there will be a lot of new shouts. Enjoy your reading.

Aetherius, Sovngarde

Neferion

His radiant trusty spear finally pierced the dragon's crimson and full of fury eye, reaching its brain. Alduin, in a final gesture of desperation, attempted to fling it off him, thrashing in all directions. But he'd already accomplished his goal. He tore the weapon from its eye and with a smooth motion, he released his grip on one of the World Eater's horns.

Falling backwards to the ground, he took a deep breath and focused his Will like never before. As he spoke, the words blazed before his eyes in their full meaning. "BAH QO RAH"(wrath, lightning, god) 

When Thuum left his lips, the entire Sovngarde trembled to its foundations, and the skies above it turned black, shrouded with obsidian clouds. Yet it took only a few seconds for a thicket of lightning bolts to cut through them, only to gather abruptly above the silhouette of Akatosh's Firstborn, who writhed in agony in the air.

For a brief moment, the Nordic realm of the dead fell silent. Then a powerful bolt of lightning struck Alduin like a divine spear, covering his entire body. The loud clap of thunder echoed throughout Aetherius.

Then there was a gigantic explosion that released incredible amounts of energy, tearing through the space above Sovngarde and forming a vortex that distorted reality.

Neferion knew something was seriously wrong, but when he felt himself being drawn towards the rift rather than going down, he understood he was screwed. Before he could even try to break free from gravity's grip, he was swallowed up and overwhelmed by darkness.

He woke up lying in a crater several feet deep, very sore but alive. He slowly rose to a sitting position, feeling the effects of his powerful vital forces, which restored his body to one hundred percent form. Although his enchanted armor took a large part of the damage from the fall, he knew that he would be dead if not for the vital forces of the dragons he had absorbed, which had unimaginably strengthened his body, far beyond its mortal limitations. Considering the crater he was in, he must have fallen from a great height.

He carefully removed his horned helmet, which glowed silver in the sunlight, while rising to his feet. He tensed his muscles and took an explosive leap out of the crater. Around him sprawled red mountains and hills that bore little resemblance to Skyrim. He also knew he wasn't in Hammerfell or Nirn for that matter. How did he know? Simple. He couldn't sense magicka. So there were two conclusions. Mundus was either completely cut off from Aetherius, which he believed was impossible, or he had left his home world.

Being cut off from magic was disturbing, but he was comforted by the thought that nothing could separate him from his Thuum, which originated from his Soul's strength and Mind's comprehension.

Even still, it was a bitter fruit to swallow. He felt as if invisible bonds, like chains, were wrapped about him, attempting to bind him. It seems that the entire will of the world had descended upon him at that instant, dissatisfied with his presence. He used his own will against it, focusing all of his soul power on this confrontation, but he was not so arrogant as to assume he could contend with the power of the entire world. At least not at the present.

They came to an impasse after a few minutes, perhaps even hours. The shackles that had previously bound him remained in place, but the following ones did not attempt to stop him. He felt his Thuum, as well as his physical abilities, weaken immediately. His own soul, his essence, remained chained. No, no. It was not that he had grown weaker. Rather, because he had no idea what else it could be, the Will of this World confined all of his actions, activities, and even movement itself. As if he were immersed in water or some substance.

'Hmm. It appears that all that remains for me to do is discover a means to weaken these chains,' he sighed. What is the World's Will? Most likely the sum of the wills of the beings who live there. Actually rather, divine entities who govern over specific features or areas of it. So the simplest approach appears to be to kill a deity or two.

He honestly doubted that it would be easy in his current situation. He could feel their presence, just on the outside of his awareness. He could sense them looming over the horizon. Their time would come, though, because wasn't he an expert at completing impossible tasks? Who could have predicted at the start, that he would kill the World Eater himself? No one. Isn't that what he had done earlier? In any case, he needed to act and move forward. After all, he had a whole new world to discover.

'Hmh. Theoretically, my first priority should be to learn about the world, its people, gods, and threats. But, for Akatosh's sake, I haven't slept in nearly a week, killed a god of destruction, and survived a several-mile fall. I just need to get some sleep,' he reflected, feeling mentally drained. The absence of magicka didn't help either. I'll find a cave or some quiet area to pitch up camp.

A mile or more from where he fell, he discovered a little valley occupied by an unknown predatory large cat, which of course ran when it sensed his presence. What could he say? Animals, unlike most humans, could detect when someone more dangerous than them had entered the vicinity.

A pleasant surprise was that, despite his absence of magicka, his magic pouch, like the enchanting effects on the armor, continued to function. A few minutes later, a fire burned in the hollow, and a large, high-quality tent stood next to it. After a brief meal, the freshly baked Alduin slayer settled into a tent bed. He was unable to use any of the spells, so he relied on one of his inventive Shouts. "Spaan" (Protection). Its effect depended mainly on the will of the user and what he wanted to achieve with its help.

He restricted himself to creating a barrier within a half-mile radius that would alert him when someone crossed it. He knew that if he allowed his Dovah aura to surface, animals would not come within a few miles of him, and only intelligent beings like humans, mer, and so on would dare to disregard their instincts.

Regarding the next steps he should take. To get knowledge about this world, he would need to speak with people who had had enough of it. He only needed to find some lords or someone in the proper position of power.. He doubted whether he would learn much from peasants. The issue of language persisted, but he remained unconcerned. With each absorbed soul of one of his brothers, he gained not just an understanding of the Thuum and their vital strength, but also experience and knowledge. His mind expanded, as did his intelligence, and most importantly, his ability to learn and absorb new information, including languages.

Another day

The next morning he quickly cleared out the temporary camp and set off at a leisurely pace towards the nearest concentration of intelligent beings he could sense. It took him a few hours to reach the place, which turned out to be a small fishing village on the shore of a large bay. To his relief, the place turned out to be inhabited by people not at all different from those inhabiting Tamriel. Their sunburnt skin, as well as dark hair and eyes, reminded him of the Imperials.

Of course, his arrival in the village sparked fear among the inhabitants, who fled to their homes upon seeing the giant in armour. However, a few braver men seized their spears and hurried out to meet him, anxiously clutching their surprisingly sturdy weapons.

"************?" questioned the heavily greyed man in front, most likely their leader, who, despite his age, was the only one clutching his weapon firmly and without fear or hesitation.

However, he had no notion what the stranger had said to him. The words seemed familiar, and based on the context, he could reasonably surmise what they meant, but language remained a barrier.

He calmly raised his hands in a gesture of peace and replied, of course knowing that they would not understand him, "I am not your enemy; I come in peace."

The men looked at each other uncertainly. They must have realised by now that he was not from these lands but could still pose a threat. So, wanting to show a gesture of goodwill, he pulled out a previously prepared pouch containing 16 golden septims and threw it in their direction.

The grey-haired man, probably hearing the sound of coins clinking inside, leaned down and picked up the pouch, then carefully opened it. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the gold.

Neferion assumed that the sight of so many gold coins was unusual for the locals. Nonetheless, he had to acknowledge that the village condition was far better than he had anticipated. The white stone huts were well-built and well-maintained, and the people were healthy and well-fed. The road that traversed the village and continued north was well-packed and rather flat. That alone led him to believe that the owner of these lands cared for both them and his subjects.

'Hmh. Interesting.'

The village leader extended his hand, holding the septims towards him, and looked at him questioningly, to which he gestured that he was looking for sleep and something to eat, although he honestly did not need either.

The latter stared at him attentively before nodding in consent, pointing to himself with his thumb, and saying, "Wyll."

Neferion then removed his helmet, eliciting a wave of astonished gasps from the peasants, and introduced himself, smiling slightly, "Neferion."

The grey-haired village leader, clearly surprised by his appearance, nodded in his direction with the hand holding the spear and turned to walk towards one of the buildings, which he followed at an even pace.

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Westeros, Starfall

Year 115 BC

Vorian Dayne

Vorian's day started like any other. First, morning sword practice, then a few hours of study with Maester Marq and his Lord Father. In between, he ate dinner with his parents and two younger brothers. Then more practice with the sword, bow, lance, and other randomly selected weapons. Then they had an evening meal together and went to bed. This guideline was not always ensued, and today appears to be one of those days.

Vorian was eating dinner in the dining hall. His younger brothers, Caspian and Arthur, were joyfully informing their mother, about morning training, while their father was quietly discussing something with uncle, Aleric, the Sword of the Morning.

His gaze wandered involuntarily to the blade hanging against the wall. The milky white blade of Dawn, the Dayne family heirloom, they had wielded for millennia, was hidden inside the elaborately adorned scabbard. According to legends, the sword was forged from a falling star, which is also featured in the family coat of arms. Every boy in the family and beyond desired it because it was in no way inferior to Valyrian steel and had existed longer than the oldest of them.

He stared at the blade as if mesmerized, his thoughts racing with visions of future greatness and fame. It was only his mother's remarks that snapped him back into reality. He glanced at her with a distant gaze, observing a faint grin on her lips and sparks of joy dancing in her warm chocolate eyes. "Forgive me, Mother. I was lost in thought. What did you say?" he asked, flushing slightly, confident that his mother knew what he was dreaming about.

The smile on his mother's lips only widened. "Mmh. Could it be that my little boy is dreaming of a some young lady?" she asked, teasing evident in her tone.

"Mother. It isn't like that. I do not have time to think about girls. I need to train to be the best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms. He responded, flushing deeper and waving his hands in denial. He realized he'd made a mistake when he noticed his mother's wicked expression. At that moment, his father intervened, looking at him with a hard gaze along with his uncle.

"Son. I appreciate how enthusiastic you are about your swordsmanship, but keep in mind that it will soon be your responsibility to marry and have children. In addition, I have begun talks with Lord Fowler about a prospective engagement between you and his eldest daughter, Meriell." Vorian's previously heated complexion paled with each phrase, and he glanced terrified at his father. His uncle next to him, clearly trying not to laugh.

"But father..." he began, but his father's rising hand cut him off mid-sentence.

"Let me finish, Vorian. You can eventually become a great knight, even the Sword of the Morning. However, you must realize that you have the primary responsibility for this family's future. First and foremost, you are the Dayne family's heir, and only then a swordsman. The sooner you realize this, the better." Seeing his clearly depressed expression, he added, "That doesn't mean you can't be both a lord and the Sword of the Morning. Many of our predecessors held both positions."

Swallowing the harsh pill of truth, he just nodded, signifying that he accepted his father's decision. There was no telling how the talk might have progressed as a knock sounded from the door and Arteh, their castle's seneschal, hurried into the chamber. He bowed slightly and said, "My Lord. The guards at the gate have stopped a stranger who wishes to see the castle's lord. According to the description of one of them, Gulian, he must be an unknown knight, as he wears exquisite, skillfully crafted armor. However, he refused to divulge his name until you meet with him."

Father glanced at Uncle Aleric, who nodded and stood up, grabbing Dawn, before leaving the chamber.

"Who could that be, some knight errant?" his mother inquired, surprised but not alarmed. After all, the castle's garrison alone had about 100 guards.

"I don't know, my beloved." Father responded carefully. "I doubt that any lord would refuse to give his name. Pride would not permit it. And if he doesn't want his visit to Starfall to be public, he shouldn't travel in full armor." He said after a time, gazing at the door through which his brother had left.

Following those words, there was silence; even the twins, despite their young age, sensed something peculiar was going on since they were eating their meal in silence. Their behaviour was absolutely different from typical "very" energetic attitude. A few minutes later, they heard footsteps on the corridor floor, which quickly faded and were replaced by the sound of the door opening.

In them stood his uncle and a giant clad in beautiful dark armor. The man was roughly seven feet tall, yet he did not appear stocky. The armor was apparently made for a more slender, athletic figure. He had seen knights in tournaments before, and he had seen several of them visit his father. Also House Dayne possessed a few absolutely great pieces in his collection, but this was the first time he had seen such excellent craftsmanship. The armor appeared to be made up of different-sized metal plates shaped like scales. The most remarkable, however, was the helmet, which appeared to be cast in one piece. It was topped with two outward-curving, foot-and-a-half-long horns, with two further pairs of lesser ones pointing backwards on either side.

However, the stranger appeared unarmed, or at least he saw no weapon attached to his hip or behind his back. Despite his lack of weapons, he radiated a commanding presence that made the chamber feel too small. Vorian couldn't describe it, but he felt a panic similar to when they came across Shadowcat on one of their hunts. The feeling was similar, but much stronger.

"Welcome to Starfall, stranger. I'm Lord Ulric Dayne. Lord of these lands," said his father, greeting the knight. Despite his best efforts, his voice was tense. Apparently, he was not the only one who had felt the dangerous aura of the man. "I was told you wanted to see me. So tell me what you want."

Stranger stayed silent, but after a moment of hesitation, he brought his hands to his head and slowly removed his helmet. An incredibly attractive face appeared before their eyes, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, noble, well-defined features, and a somewhat golden complexion. Silver-white hair, cut short. He may have assumed this one was from Valyria, but his normally human traits ended there. For the man was not quite human. He had slightly pointed ears and eyes that shone like liquid gold, with vertical pupils.

Vorian, holding his breath, looked into the man's eyes, which radiated some extraordinary power, and wondered if it wasn't the Warrior himself who had descended to earth, because his mind was screaming for him to fall down before this entity. A sound jolted him awake. After a time, he realized it was the man's own voice. A low timbre, pleasing for the ear. Interestingly, he noticed that the air was vibrating while giant spoke.

"Greetings, Lord Dayne. My name is Neferion Aldmeri. I come from a faraway land and seek sanctuary in your castle, where I may learn about this lands, their history, and culture. In exchange, I am willing to lend you my strength, within reason, and offer payment in gold or valuable stones. He replied, bowing slightly, expressing his request, which Vorian perceived rather as an order they couldn't reject. Such was the strength of his voice.

Ulrik Dayne cleared his throat and shook his head, as if coming out of a daze. Finally, he inquired, "Neferion, you say? A unique name. Did you mean maybe Nefer when you mentioned distant lands? Do all of its people possess such distinctive physical characteristics?

"Unfortunately, I do not know anything about this Nefer, as I come from a continent of Tamriel and I'm sure you've never heard of." The man who introduced himself as Neferion responded with a faint smile, which eased the mood in the chamber. The father scowled somewhat at these words before remarking, "You speak our language remarkably well for a man not from around here. I doubt a similar language is spoken in this Tamriel."

"Our languages are surprisingly similar, despite appearances," the stranger said, scratching his chin with his fingers as though he was thinking. "Admittedly, I was a little taken aback by this. Furthermore, I'm really good at languages, and I spent a dozen or so days in a nearby village listening and learning the language."

Vorian could tell that his father wasn't entirely convinced by these words, and after a moment he spoke again, "Let's say I believe you, Lord Neferion. You claim you can offer gold and jewels in exchange, but I don't see any. I'm more interested in your strength, though. You seem like a great warrior. I have a task you could help me with in exchange for hospitality."

The man nodded, clearly intrigued. "I'm listening." He replied, to which his father's lips curved into a slight smile of satisfaction.

"About a hundred miles to the south, in the delta of the Torentine, the river on which Starfall actually stands, is the large town of Redcape, which falls under my dominion. It has a population of approximately 15,000 and is currently my most significant port. I've been getting disturbing news from there," he added, frowning deeply. "For the previous few weeks, ships in the area have encountered the Ironborn, pirates from the Iron Islands to the west of the continent. I'm particularly concerned that there have been no attacks, as if these sea scum were performing espionage before launching a larger attack." 

Neferion interjected, "I've heard a little bit about the Ironborn from the villagers, and I understand they're a pirate nation that has plagued these lands for thousands of years. Have there been similar significant attacks on other ports in recent years?"

"About 11 moons ago, there was a major attack on the Arbor, an island belonging to House Redwayne of the Kingdom of Reach." Uncle Alarik responded. "The onslaught was effectively repelled, thanks in large part to their formidable fleet. However, we are concerned that the Ironborn are now hunting for weaker pickings following their setback."

"Exactly," his father agreed. "Individual captains can satisfy themselves by pillaging ships. However, King Qhorin Hoare needs far bigger targets. Furthermore, Dorne's ports appear to be an attractive target, as he avoids a war. The Iron Islands are too far away, and we don't have enough ships to make war economically viable.

"You expect me to thwart an invasion of Redcape and destroy the Ironborn fleet?" their guest inquired, his tone casual, as if such a thing were no challenge for him.

This made his father laugh, and after he had calmed down, he said, "No. I only ask for what humans are capable of. Alaric and fifty of my finest soldiers were to be sent here. You'll accompany them and work with my brother to find out more and possibly make the port ready for an assault." 

"I understand," he replied and inquired, "Should we depart right away?"

"Of course not Lord Neferion, I don't expect anything like that," his father protested. "Get some rest and get prepared. A ship will take you downstream in a few days, so you will get there in no more than two days. You will be shown to your chambers and served dinner there by my seneschal Arth. Our library and maester are available to you if you want to learn our script or broaden your knowledge," he continued.

"I am grateful, Lord Ulrik. I sincerely appreciate your hospitality." After responding, the visitor left the room with Arth.

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Westeros, Starfall

Neferion

The castle library was lit solely by the warm glow of candles on the table. Neferion sat in a nice oak chair, leaning on his elbow and looking closely at the book in front of him. A few long minutes later, he sighed and massaged his sleepy eyes. 'I shouldn't spend the majority of my day reading, but I have so much to learn about the world around me. I'm like a child lost in the fog.'

One notion soothed him. Lord Dayne was a good man. A little rigid but honorable. As was his entire family. He reminded him of Jarl Balgruf. The chances of meeting such a nobleman were extremely slim. His host could have be someone like Erikur, that son of a bitch.

In any case, it was a start. Once he dealt with the Ironborn, he should gain an ally and a safe haven in the future.

'Yes, Ironborn,' he thought, frowning. Honestly, it amazed him how far back in time the origins of the peoples inhabiting these lands stretched. Briefly familiarizing himself with the history of both Westeros and Essos, he learned that some Houses dated their beginnings many thousands of years ago. In Essos, both the Valyrian Freehold in the west of the continent and the Yi Ti Empire in the east reigned for millennia.

He questioned if it was a result of stagnation or anything else. He hoped to find an answer to this question in the future. His actually aim was the Ironborn. Not merely because of the mission he had to complete for Lord Urlik. No. He simply despised pirates and had slain many of them over his life. The thought of a whole nation living on murder, pillage, and rape made his Dovah blood boil.

He may not have been a perfect man. During his six-year fight against Alduin, he shed a sea of blood. Blood of Dovah, monsters, humans, and mer. However, he had one weakness. He was a fucking hero, and if innocent people were being targeted, he was unable to remain quiet. As someone once said, all that is required for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.

"Hmh. What a shitty world to live." he muttered under his breath and started humming "Our hero, our hero…"

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West of Westeros, The Sunset Sea

Something began to stir in the Sunset Sea's depths. Something what had been dormant for millennia. Massive tentacles like ribbons cut through the water at a sluggish rate. It was not yet fully awake, but the time was near. A new force has appeared in the world, ready to challenge the hidden, forgotten Powers.

Though their god remained in slumber, his servants felt their father's stirrings, and their submerged settlements came to life anew. Planetos' worst inhabitants were about to be remembered once more. Soon, the Deep Ones would strike fear in the hearts of other races once more.

Westeros, Shipbreaker Bay

Obsidian-black clouds enveloped the sky over Shipbreaker Bay and parts of the Narrow Sea. The heavens were marred by massive branches of lightning that stretched to the horizon. The swirling waters flung ships left and right, and massive waves crashed against the shoreline. Small Joe observed everything nervously, praying to the Storm God that his wrath would not destroy their small village. He had fished in these waters for decades and had never encountered a storm of this scale. Their god must have been truly furious. Perhaps some septon was blaspheming him again. "Fools. Every single one of them," he mumbled fiercely, wiping his face damp from the rain.

Westeros, The North

Voices of concern and even fear rang out over the lands of the Kings of Winter, for on that same day, every face on every Heart tree began to bleed profusely, and rivers of bloody tears had been flowing from the carved faces for weeks. Many began to whisper that this was a warning of danger, that something had compelled their silent, sleeping gods to intervene.

King Jon Stark sat at his desk in his chamber, looking anxiously at the Maester's wrinkled face. "Maester Tyrion, have you been able to determine anything more?" The gold-haired man simply shook his head in resignation and said, "Nothing, Your Majesty. Recent messages from your vassals, delivered by ravens, confirm that this bizarre occurrence still takes place throughout the North. I can only tell for certain that it is not a natural phenomenon."

"Damn it! I know it's not natural," Jon said, rubbing his temples tiredly. He got very little sleep in the last few weeks. The entire thing worried him heavily. It didn't help that Old Nan kept repeating that the old Powers were awakening, but he had no idea what she meant, or rather didn't want to know, for the thought made his skin crawl. He even avoided going to the Godswood because the area around the Heart tree had become filled with little pools of blood. Not tree sap, but actual blood.

"I have also received a reply from the Citadel," the Maester added, his green eyes as worn as his own. "Last week, a group of maesters commanded by Archmaester Gerold departed from the Old Town. Perhaps they'll be able to provide some answers. I've known Gerold for a long time, and he is one of the most brilliant minds of our time, having spent almost a decade in Valyria, studying at their Zaldrizes Butyrion, Tower of Knowledge, under the guidance of prominent Valyrian scholars."

"Hmm." The king hummed in response, lowering his gaze to the map of the North spread out before him with a worried look. "I hope you're right. I feel in my bones that dark times are coming, and I can only hope that we'll be prepared for what awaits us.".

Essos, Qohor

Only the tied prisoners terrified groans and screams shattered the darkness of the temple. They knew what was waiting for them in this dark place. The odor of blood lingered in the air. They abruptly fell silent. At the opposite end of the chamber, there were rasps and shuffling. Something had moved.

Then there were loud, heavy footsteps. Silence fell. Out of nowhere, a massive, hairy hand reached out and grabbed one of them. The sounds of chomping and biting cut through the sobs of the unfortunate. A few seconds later, the two surviving victims were then seized by the gigantic hands, and their last sight was of big yellowish eyes with horizontal pupils before they were devoured.

Essos, Hidden Temple of Red God

The temple of R'hllor, the Lord of Light, was nearly deserted, save for four individuals standing in the middle of it, facing a massive fire pillar that was burning without any fuel. Among these figures, three were female. "High Priestess. What has changed? One of them asked the black-haired woman standing to her right, "What do these new visions mean?"

The High Priestess' sapphire eyes never left the fire burning before her. "I don't know," Aldera replied after a moment, worry evident in her voice. "The flames are too dim. The old powers are waking from their slumber. The Great Enemy is waking too soon. I don't understand. It's not time yet," she whispered to herself, staring into the flames, where the silhouette of the warrior whose voice shook the world flickered.

Lands of Always Winter

Snow and ice were visible in every way. Flat plains, high peaks, and deep valleys were all blanketed in a thick layer of white. Only a few things stuck out among the snowy swathes that stretched to the horizon. Massive weirwood trees, immense cities, and palaces constructed entirely of ice. Among them moved several beings of remarkable beauty. Their beautiful faces and magnificent armor appeared to be fashioned from the same material as the cities they passed through. However, their eyes revealed nothing but malice and death. Dozens of settlements, each containing hundreds of these elegant children of the Great Other, started getting ready for war. The Final War.

Outside the cities, tens of thousands of corpses appeared from ice-carved mounds. People, animals, giants, huge beasts from nightmares, and even the powerful skeletons of dragons slain during the Long Night were revived.

In the great ice stronghold, in the heart of this kingdom of endless winter, stood a throne carved from black ice, on which sat a nightmare figure. A massive man wearing armor composed of the same material as the throne. It exuded a terrible coldness that was inexplicable even in this place.

"Awake, my Champion." A voice burst out from all directions, sounding like thousands of ice needles or a shattered glacier. "A new adversary has emerged to compete with me. More dangerous than those fools riding fire lizards. More powerful than the Great Empire of Dawn. Awake. Soon, you shall lead my armies to bring darkness and destruction to this world." 

After this, two red lights shone like bloodstones in the visor of the helm of the individual sitting on the throne, gradually changing the color to an icy, glowing blue.

Essos, Valyria

The true monarch of the Freehold slept in the depths hidden beneath Valyria, where lakes of lava instead of waters filled the area and the heat and poisonous air would kill any living creature. A massive body covered in obsidian scales rested on a large island in the heart of the sea of fire, reflecting the flames. The beast suddenly moved, raising its horned head and gazing to the west with closed eyes, as if listening.

After lengthy minutes, it slowly opened its eyelids, displaying ruby eyes flaming with challenge and rage, and from its throat issued a tremendous, low voice that shook the air and earth: "So you have finally arrived. I was waiting for you, Dovahkiin."