Cydalfos

The Mercy of the Divines

I fought and bled for Skyrim. I carved a path through dragons and mer alike, cut down the Imperial legion and liberated Skyrim from the would-be-oppression of the Thalmor. I was the Last Dragonborn, forged through blood and fire to bring down the world-eater and save Tamriel from a certain destruction. I did my duty as a son of Skyrim, and when my duty was done I found rest. When I left this world, it was in peace.

When I returned, it was in the midst of a thunderous cacophony.

I was a spirit, surrounded by spirits, in a room of the purest light. As my eyes adjusted I noticed there were some around me who were familiar, although I could not place the faces. The spectral faces around me showed a range of emotion - from sorrow to surprise and even a few who seemed to be outraged to be so taken from their final rest. I had seen stranger things, had taken part in stranger things, and so my instincts drove me to take stock of my situation.

There were no walls to make out, no roof and no feeling of a floor. Just the somber light surrounding and suffusing our ethereal forms, the scoffs and shouts and whispers of the souls around me. They went on for as far as I could see, although whether actually immeasurable or a trick of the light I could not say. In what seemed like an eternity of no time at all, the light was gone and our voices were muted and we floated, together and alone out in the vastness of What We Didn’t Know Was Next.

MEN.

The Voice echoed inside the everything and sent a ripple through the gathered souls. I assume there were still none among us who could make a sound, as we were still as silent as before the voice had spoken.

YOU MUST GO BACK.

I felt - I FELT my hands grow warm as the Voice boomed out amongst the gathering. My hands grew warm, and by stages my arms and my chest grew warm. I was feeling. Go back? All of us? As the last echoes of the words faded away, I looked around me again. Sure enough, every face I saw belonged to the races of men - in appearance at least.

WE NEED YOU TO SLEEP. CHANGE THE DREAM. YOU MUST GO BACK.

A sharp pain in my back dropped me to my hands and knees, and feeling was already overrated. Softer voices floated at the range of hearing, words I couldn’t quite make out. Change the dream? Around me I saw the knees of my translucent compatriots, was I the only one experiencing this? Just

what in Oblivion was going on?

“What in Oblivion is that?”

Words! Clearly spoken from a nearby source. Sounds all around me, even among the echos of the Voice. My vision turned downward to blood and dirt - reality, life - then back upwards to the void, populated by the quickly fading souls of What Once Was. What was this?

CYDALFOS SNOWJACKAL. CHANGE THE DREAM. YOU MUST GO BACK.

“It’s in the clouds!”

“DRAGON!”