Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Act 1: Awakening

Tiid bo amativ…

Nust fent zu'u mindok…

Nammu woke with a start, bolting upright in his cot as the whispers faded from his ears.. That voice…deep, bassy, and utterly unmistakable. He thought he had left these dreams behind when he left Solstheim, but to hear it now after so many years without so much as a whisper or glimpse of-

“Guildmaster? Are you awake?”

Nammu was drawn from his musings by a voice from outside his tent. That’s right, he had been in the middle of an expedition for Auryen; something to do with some Akaviri ruins he had heard mention of in another one of his obscure texts. But what was he doing in his tent? Last Nammu remembered he and Karl had just managed to crack the mechanisms for the door… 

“Guildmaster? Maybe he is still asleep?” That was Karl now from outside Nammu's tent. He really should get up.

Nammu stood up with a groan and walked over to the washstand, seeking the polished plate he had been using as a makeshift mirror propped up beside it. He glanced in, ignoring the burning glow from his eyes with practiced ease. There, near his temple; dried blood and the beginnings of a bruise. He must have been hit by something and been knocked out, a rock or somesuch. Nammu sighed, snatching his goggles from their place beside the basin and swiftly putting them on, safely hiding burning red eyes behind the tinted glass once more. He was thankful that whomever had dragged him back to his tent had also retrieved his goggles and left them nearby- probably Karl again. At least now he wouldn't be stuck inside the tent yelling orders through the cloth until his goggles could be found.

Nammu sighed deeply once more, studying his tired visage in the mirror a little more closely now his eyes were covered. Same grey skin, red hair slightly messy but bearable for now. Nammu wrinkled his nose, watching the scar across his bridge shift with the motion; at least this cut on his temple shouldn't leave a permanent mark. As he continued to check for injuries, Nammu's mind drifted once more to his dream. He hadn't seen anything this time,only the endless void of sleep but that voice…it was definitely the same that had haunted his dreams for as long as he could remember. For his dreams to be recurring now of all times did not bode well. Nammu shook off the chill he could feel beginning to crawl up his spine and quickly splashed himself with water from the basin. Now was not the time to dwell on dreams: Karl was certainly becoming worried the longer he remained in his tent. And speaking of Karl

“Guildmaster if you continue to sleep, I will have no choice but to call for a healer!”

“No need for threats Karl, I'm up,” Nammu called, quickly wiping off the crusted blood and throwing another glance at his reflection before making his way towards the tent, tying up his hair as he pushed through the wollen flap.

“Ah so glad to see you awake Guildmaster! You gave us a right fright when you dropped after that stone hit you. I thought you were supposed to be a mage, yet here you are, fallen low from a mere pebble. The draugr tremble I'm sure.”

Nammu snorted “It's hardly the first time you've seen me take a rock to the skull. Besides, what was I supposed to do, throw flames at it? Then we'd just have flaming rocks on our hands.”

Karl laughed, handing over Nammu's leather armour as he did. Ah, he had been wondering where that went. “You flame happy dunmer and your destruction magic, it's a wonder the Guild is still standing. You alright to continue looking for this relic or did you want to rest a little longer? We're not in any rush, I’m certain Auryen wouldn't mind waiting longer if you needed to recuperate.”

“No, let us carry on. I want to wrap up finding this relic as soon as possible, I have some business in Riften I need to see to after stopping by the museum,” Nammu said, shrugging on his armour and adjusting his scarf. “ We've got through the door so the rest should be no trouble to get through, Aedra be willing.” With that, Nammu headed up the steps towards the crumbling Akaviri ruin, his mind once more fully focused on the excavation ahead.

--------------------

Nammu pushed his way through the grand doors that marked the entrance for the museum, Akaviri relic in hand. It was rather beautiful for what was almost certainly a weapon of some sorts, a sharp silver hoop with dragon motifs running around the edge, dark leather wrapped around one half to form some sort of grip. Of course, Nammu could have done without fighting a draugr deathlord in order to get ahold of it, but what was relic hunting without the occasional thrill of near death experiences?

In all honesty however, Nammu quite enjoyed tangling with draugr deathlords, though he would never admit it to his fellow Guild members for fear they would call the mind healer…again. There was something about the language they spoke that called to something within him; like if he just listened hard enough he would be able to finally understand them. A ridiculous thought of course, most of the time it was just unintelligible shouting and he was busy trying to not be thrown into the nearest wall. This however didn't stop Nammu from his morbid pursuit of any obscure lore he could get his hands on that was even vaguely related to the Merethic era and its languages. It was this pursuit of knowledge that led him to Auryen and the Explorer’s Guild.

“Ah good day to you Guildmaster. I trust you are faring well? How goes the excavation?”

Auryen Morellus was one of the few people Nammu would consider a genuine friend. The high elf was patient and kind, unlike others of his kin Nammu had had the misfortune of crossing paths with, and had always been content to politely overlook Nammu's odd behaviors and secrecy. Auryen had instead been far more interested in Nammu's apparent talent for stumbling across rare relics and artifacts in his exploration of Skyrim's many many crypts and ruins. If not for Auryen, Nammu was certain he would still be wandering aimlessly around Skyrim, largely without purpose and with an ever-growing stash of artifacts he had no home for.

“It went well, a small accident set us back a little but otherwise very successful. The information you found was good, definitely an Akaviri ruin judging by the architecture and abundance of dragon motifs…” Nammu continued to give a brief overview of the expedition as he followed Auryen towards his office, handing over the artifact as they passed through the grand marble corridors.

“Ah, this is truly a lovely piece… I believe it is called the Drakensang. Legend tells that the weapon was forged from the talon of the tiger dragon of Ka’ Po Tun.The leader of the cat folk of Akavir, Tosh'Raka, who allegedly metamorphosed himself into a dragon. Not sure if there is any truth to it or if it's just mythology, but the weapon is a beautiful piece nonetheless. If you could place it on one of the racks in the Hall of Heroes I would be much obliged, and as usual here is a finder's fee for you my friend, assuming of course you are willing to part with this one?” Auryen handed over a small leather pouch, gold within clinking as Nammu accepted it.

“I'll drop it off on my way out. Have you come across any more leads in your research? I'm planning on heading towards Riften to take care of some business but I could be persuaded to make some detours on such a long and tedious journey.”

Auryen laughed, “Are you sure you're not interested in my offer to be made the official relic hunter for the museum? At this rate you will have supplied me with more than half of my displays. As a matter of fact, I do have a couple of leads I would like followed up- here I have written them done on a note for you. I would recommend starting with this item here, an artifact for sale by a general merchant in Helgen named Borguth. He said he would hold the item for me for a while, but I think it best not to wait too long lest he decide to sell it. Are you sure you don't want to rest awhile before you head out again so soon? There is a spare bed you could make use of in the servants quarters.”

Nammu accepted the note Auryen handed to him, waving him off with the other hand as he gave the parchment a quick glance over. “No, I'd rather leave now while it's dark to save people from seeing me coming and going from here. Besides, if Borguth is really at risk of selling this artifact I best be off quickly.”

“Nammu, it is really no problem if you take a moment-”

“Don't use that name!” Nammu hissed, whipping his head up to glare at a now flustered Auryen. He could feel his eyes burning, certain that the red glow would be visible to the altmer even through the dark glass of his goggles. A heat also rose from within his stomach, clawing it's way up his throat only to be caught trapped behind his teeth, begging to be released. Nammu swallowed down the burn and quickly hurried out of the office, heading for the dark streets of Solitude and the city gates beyond that. He stuck to the shadows, taking care to avoid being seen by anyone as he left the city- after all, who knew who could be lurking in the night, watching his every move. 

--------------------

Skyrim’s sky at night was truly a breathtaking sight- after spending years under the oppressive grey gloom and ash of Solstheim, Nammu didn't think he would ever get tired of it. Eyes tracking the brilliant blues and greens of the Aurora from where he reclined on his bedroll, Nammu was forced to admit that he may have overreacted to Auryen's use of his name- and it was as close to a name as he could claim to have, loathe as he was to admit it. ‘Nammu’, no-name, how he cursed his younger self for ever responding to it. But how was he to know that it was an insult? That young dunmer he had been, lost adrift on that ashen wasteland desperate for any sort of connection or acknowledgement from his brethren. At the time, ‘Nammu’ seemed a welcome change from the usual monikers of boy, fetcher, s'wit, or brat. If Neloth hadn't oh-so-graciously informed him of what it meant, well. He supposed the snickering of the residents of Ravenrock whenever he introduced himself would have given it away eventually.

Nammu shifted on his bedroll, sighing at the maudlin turn his thoughts had taken. What was in the past was done. He was at least in a better position now than when he had still been in Solstheim; he had a job that kept him busy and on the move, he had a couple of friends- if he hadn't driven Auryen off that is- and the dreams had stopped when he left the island-

Well. They had stopped, for a while at least. Nammu sat up, staring into the low burning embers of his campfire. With all the day's activities, he had forgotten about the dream. What was it the voice had said again? Tiid bo ama-something. Tiid he knew meant time,  but for the rest he would need to check his notebook… Nammu paused, his hand stretched out towards his pack. Right, the notebook, he had left it at his house in Riften. Of course he had, he hadn’t needed it since coming to the mainland. No matter, just another reason he needed to stop at Riften before making a start on Auryen's list.

Nammu shot an ice spike at the fire, snuffing out the last of the embers before settling back down onto his bedroll, surrounding himself once more in the blue-green ethereal glow of the Aurora. As he started to drift off, Nammu's last thought was that if he was lucky the dream was a one-off, and there would be no need to retrieve the notebook at all.

--------------------

Nammu was standing on a platform, suspended above a roiling black sea. Tendrils of black ink rose from the surface, reaching towards the sickly green sky above. The air around him was full of the sound of rustling pagentled gentle whispers. Where was he? He didn't know of anyplace on Tamriel that looked like this…

Fent zu'u mindok…tiid los het!

That voice… no, it couldn't be. He was so sure that it had been a fluke! Nammu turned towards the sound, heart in his throat, praying to any Aedra or Deadra that might listen that he wouldn't see anything-

Alas, there, on the other side of the platform. A tall figure, holding a book in one hand with the other stretched out towards the dark sea below. He couldn't see them very well, the thick green mist obscuring most of his view, but what he could see was enough to confirm his fears. It was him. Same dark robes,  same broad frame, glints of gold coming off the pauldrons and mask. The man from his dreams, whom he had not seen nor heard from for the past ten years.

GOL HAH DOV!

Here in his shrine

That they have forgotten

Here do we toil

That we might remember…

The man gave a shout, and it felt as though every bone in Nammu's body rattled in response. Every part of him felt like it started burning with an alertness he had never experienced before. It was like he had been asleep his entire life but now, now he was finally awake. Nammu let out an involuntary gasp, mind reeling- what was this feeling? That shout, what was it and why did it feel eerily familiar? And that chant… Whatever it was, the magic being used here was dark. A sick, oily feeling ran from his ears down to his throat at the sound, reaching down to choke his lungs of air. But Nammu had no time to dwell further on these sensations - his gasp had not gone unnoticed. The figure suddenly paused in his chanting, and began to turn towards where Nammu was standing.

Volaan? Wo ko daar golt…

Nammu only got a brief glimpse of burnished gold and tentacles, before he felt himself being abruptly tugged from within-

Nammu sat up with a gasp, frantically clutching at his chest as he felt the tight grip of panic starting to subside. There was no doubting it now. His dreams had returned after years of silence. Nammu had been puzzled as to why before, but now he would bet coin that it had something to do with that chant the figure seemed to be constructing.

Well, that confirmed it, he was definitely going back to Riften to pick up that notebook now. It was probably also not the best time for him to be traveling alone Nammu mused, beginning to gather his pack together. With winter fast approaching, tensions rising as the civil war was ramping up and now the return of the dreams… No, continuing to travel alone was not the best course of action at all. Nammu stood and slung his pack onto his shoulder, ready to start the long trek eastwards to the Rift. At least Inigo would be happy to see him, and hopefully he hadn't managed to burn down his house while he had been away this time.

Chapter Text

Nammu pushed through the shabby wooden door of the Riften jail, giving a nod to the masked guard posted at the entrance as he passed. He made his way to the cells on the left, following the sound of someone singing a bawdy tavern song very, very loudly.

“There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from Old Roriksteeeead!”

The dunmer came to a stop outside the cell, and cleared his throat pointedly; “If I didn't know better, I would be offended that you keep bribing the guards to let you in here when I have a perfectly decent house you could be staying in. For free, I might add.”

Inigo turned to face Nammu, a bright beaming smile spreading across his face. “And miss out on the delightful atmosphere here? I think not. But now is not the time for debate, but rather a joyous reunion! My dearest friend, it is wonderful to see you!” Inigo opened the cell door and threw his arms around Nammu in a hug, before pulling back with his hands still resting on the dunmer's shoulders, looking him over. “And still in one piece I see. Well, what is it you need my friend? The bags under your eyes tell me that this is no mere social visit.”

“Not this time Inigo,” Nammu replied, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “I have a couple of errands to run for the museum, and with everything that's going on in Skyrim at the moment…well. Solo travel doesn't seem the best move right now. I know relic hunting isn't very exciting for you but-”

Inigo held up a hand, “Say no more my friend. I would be glad to accompany you on your journeys once more. These legs of mine could probably do with stretching before they wither away to nothing. Come my feet, time to wake up! Our friend needs us!” With that, Inigo began marching out of the cell, dragging Nammu along with an arm wrapped around his shoulders. Nammu laughed, throwing his own arm around his friend's neck in turn as they made to leave the jail.

“I did miss you dearly as well, you great hairy lummox” He tugged on Inigo's ponytail playfully, snickering as the khajiit hissed at him. “Come, I have to stop by the house first, and you need to put on at least a shirt before we go any further. Why are you always half naked when I find you here?”

“Ah my friend, when you are living in a cell, that is when you can truly be free of society's prudish sensibilities. Shackled in body, but free in…body? Free of clothing at the very least!”

The two friends laughed uproariously as they made for the exit. Behind them, Sibbi Blackbriar gusted a great sigh of relief in his cell, grateful for the newfound silence.

--------------------

A loud crash sounded from the basement below, disturbing the otherwise peaceful atmosphere of Honeyside.

“Everything is okay! No need to come downstairs, Inigo the Brave has it well in hand!”

Nammu sighed from where he crouched on the worn wooden floors, shuffling through the books on the lowermost shelf of his bookcase. After he had caught Inigo up with everything he had been up to recently, including the recurrence of his old dreams, he had sent the khajiit downstairs to look for any valuables they could sell while he searched for his journal. He knew it had to be here somewhere, it was highly unlikely he had shoved it into one of the many crates he had scattered about the property. Nammu thumbed carefully through the books, skimming through the titles as he continued his search.

A Pocket Guide to the Empire, Aedra and Daedra, Before the Ages of Man, the entire Wolf Queen saga (when did he even collect that?), Fall from Glory, Liminal Bridges…  Nammu's fingers suddenly caught on a book, wedged tight between two much larger books to either side. He gently tugged it free, revealing a simple Netch-leather cover dyed a bright red. This is what he had been searching for; the notebook he had kept and written diligently in when he was still a young lad on Solstheim. In fact, it was one of the very few possessions he had taken with him when he had come to Skyrim. This journal, his scarf and - 

Nammu's eyes slid back to his bookcase, landing unerringly on the thick black book resting on the top shelf, tucked back towards the wall and covered in a thick layer of dust. The Hidden Twilight, the book he had taken with him when he fled from Tel Mithryn. He couldn't say what exactly had driven him to steal it, aside from his urge to spite Neloth that is, but the book had a strange pull to it that unnerved him. Even just looking at it now, Nammu could feel that tickle at the back of his mind, urging him to stand up, pick up the book, just a little look couldn't hurt, it might even have the answers he was looking for…

With a practiced jolt, Nammu tore his eyes away from the black book to instead open the cover of his very normal, non-whispery-mind-bending book. He quickly flipped through the pages, looking for the last entry.

Sun’s Dusk; 4E 185

I saw Onikaan-in once more in my dreams, but he did not seem to recognise me. Rather, he became enraged at my presence-

Nammu snapped the book shut, shoving it deep into his pack. He told himself he would take another look later, once they were on the road again. Staying too long in civilisation made him twitchy, and he was eager to be away from the major cities at least for at least a little while. Nammu left the bookshelf, grabbing a couple more items to shove into his pack that might be of use; an extra set of clothes, a boot dagger, some food from the kitchen. As he continued to pack, he could hear the heavy footsteps of his companion making his way up the stairs from the basement.

“Not much down there that I think you would be willing to part with my friend. I found a couple of rings right at the bottom of one of the crates, plus this silver amulet, though it has a broken clasp.” Inigo held out his hand, presenting two rather sad looking rings, dull and set with cheap stones. In his other fist dangled the aforementioned locket. “You seem to have already sold everything in your sell-box. Unless you have any other stashes of valuable items hoarded away?”

“Like you said, nothing I would be willing to part with” Nammu replied. “Bersi should give us at least a few coins for these. I have some septims leftover from my last excavation as well, but I was planning to put that towards buying the urn that Auryen wanted. Have a rummage around in that Thieves' Cache in my garden that the Guild seems to think I don't know anything about. Sell everything you find in there, then meet me at the stables.”

Inigo flashed a quick mocking salute before turning to leave. Nammu chuckled at his friend's antics, before making for the door at the back of his property. This second exit is what led him to buy the property in the first place; because the door led directly to the Rift beyond the city walls, no one could be certain of when exactly he came or went from the city. Perfect for quick, covert visits. The abundant storage space also appealed as a place to store the loot he wasn't willing to part from- his hoard Inigo jokingly called it. Nammu stepped onto his porch and went to make for the stairs down to the stable when something made him pause. He couldn't place his finger on it but…something wasn't right. Nammu turned back towards the porch once more, taking in its appearance a little more closely. Nothing appeared  to be out of place- there was the same table and chair, fish hanging out to dry on the railing, fish barrels in the same spot. He squinted at the barrels. Had they moved slightly or was that his imagination?

Nammu continued to stare at the barrels, gaze boring into the wood, mind urging them to reveal their secrets. The barrels remained silent. Above him, a circling seagull squawked, blissfully unaware of the turmoil churning within the dunmer below. The wind gently wafted through the trees, stirring the leaves and sending the water of Honrich Lake to lap at the beams below his feet.

The barrels continued to remain silent.

Huffing, Nammu turned to stomp his way down the porch steps. It was probably nothing. Simply his paranoia creating enemies out of inanimate objects. Nammu had been on edge ever since he left Solitude, the dreams once more stirring up long-buried fears and anxieties. If someone had truly tried to break into his house, the failsafes he had laid would have triggered, and he had already checked them. 

Having reassured himself, Nammu continued making his way to the stables, more than ready to put the whole fetching hold behind him.

--------------------

It was clearly too much to expect a problem-free journey on what was essentially a glorified fetch quest.

Nammu was in the middle of describing his encounter with a clearly mad farmer and his painted cow to a very amused Inigo, when the acrid scent of smoke wafted into his nose. He cut himself off, sitting up further in the saddle as he attempted to get a clearer look down the path. 

“Inigo, can you smell that?”

Inigo, whose khajiit heritage lended itself to a far more discerning sense of smell, had already turned to face the direction the smoke was coming from. “My nose smells trouble, friend. Isn't Helgen the next village up this road?”

“It is. Come on Inigo!” Nammu urged his mount into a sprint, Inigo's white mare not far behind. But just as they rounded the corner and came into view of the gate-

“Is that a dragon?!”

Surging up from the burnt wreckage of what was once Helgen, a great black dragon took to the skies with a bellowing roar. The ground shook with the force of it, spooking his horse which reared up with a shrieking whinny. Nammu felt close to shrieking himself - icy dread pooled low in his gut as he watched an impossible creature of legend fly northwards…towards Whiterun. Shit.

“It's heading towards Whiterun! Quickly, we've got to go warn them!”

“Right behind you my friend. Come Spirit, ride like the wind!”

Trees and roads went by in a blur. Despite a very brief stop in Riverwood to pass on the warning (and an argument at Whiterun gates, Nammu was not impressed) they made it to Dragonsreach in short time. There, they were able to gain an audience with the Jarl once it was revealed they came with news from Helgen.

Nammu stepped into the grand banquet hall, Inigo following closely at his heels. At the end of the hall lounging on his throne was Jarl Balgruuf caught up in an intense discussion with his steward, though he looked up when the pair came to rest at the foot of the stairs.

“Who is this, then?”

Nammu gave a shallow bow, “Jarl Balgruuf, I come to you straight from Helgen. I have information on the dragon attack that destroyed the village.”

Balgruuf sat up, waving his steward away as he examined the dunmer before him with a shrewd gaze. “You saw this dragon with your own eyes?”

“Yes, Jarl Balgruuf. My companion and I were approaching Helgen from the south when we saw it,” Nammu rose from his bow, gesturing at Inigo as he continued, “it was a great black dragon, a huge beast. Very spiky. There was truly no mistaking it.”

“By Ysmir, Irileth was right. Then there can be no delay, we must start preparations at once. A dragon!” The Jarl began quickly rattling off instructions to his courtiers. Nammu waited, knowing he was far from being dismissed, firmly ignoring the glare he could feel drilling into the side of his head from Irileth. She had been staring him down since he had stepped foot in Dragonsreach. Why though, he could only begin to guess.

Balgruuf turned back to Nammu, courtiers scuttling off to carry out his orders. “Well done for seeking me out, not many would have done so of their own initiative. I'm afraid I have more I need to ask of you however, if you would be willing to extend your services for a little longer. Come, let's go speak to my court wizard, he has a job I think you would be perfect for…”

--------------------

Well, at least this kills two birds with one stone.

Bleak Falls Barrow passed around them in a blur, Nammu moving almost on autopilot as they moved through the ancient temple in search of the Dragonstone, the very same that Auryen had listed as another artifact for Nammu to retrieve.

With ruthless efficiency, honed from years of hunting through ruins just like this one, Nammu and Inigo moved past traps,

(“How did you solve that so quickly?! Are you a secret puzzle master my friend?”)

took down draugr,

(“Stay down you bag of bones!”)

disabled traps with draugr,

(Nammu cackled as he shoved another draugr into the pressure plate, activating the door trap and sending the corpse flying)

until finally, they stood before a large coffin in the final chamber. A quite unfortunately sealed coffin.

“I don't suppose you know how to get around this seal, my nimble fingered…friend? What is wrong?”

Nammu did not answer, standing before the Word Wall in quiet wonderment. The writing etched into the stone here… he didn't recognise it, he knew he had never seen a script like this anywhere in Skyrim during his travels. And yet… he couldn't shake the feeling that he should know it. There was an insistent tugging somewhere in his very soul, urging him to reach out to one particular section-

As Nammu's trembling fingers brushed the wall, the dissonant whispers that had been lurking just at the edge of his hearing grew into an almighty roar.

Fus…..force…..

He shook his head, ears ringing as the voices faded from his hearing once more. Fus…was this the same language that the figure used in his dreams? He had never seen it written down, so it was hard to be sure. He clenched his fingers, the strange pull dissipating now that the wall had imparted its strange knowledge to him.

“My friend, are you sure you are well? You're not still feeling ill from those Frostbite spiders are - ah! Big draugr, big draugr!”

In the end, retrieving the Dragonstone went relatively smoothly. Nobody was grievously injured, they had collected a tidy sum of gold, and Farengar was pleased enough to agree to giving Nammu a charcoal copy of the stone for Auryen. All seemed well, and they were just preparing to leave when-

“Farengar! A dragon has been spotted nearby. You, traveler, you should come too.”

The series of events that followed progressed so quickly Nammu was still struggling to piece together exactly what happened. He recalled listening to the guards report with the Jarl, following Irileth and her detachment to the western watchtower, and speaking to a survivor they found within the smoking ruins. The next thing he knew, he was throwing himself into the tower to avoid the stream of fire that came from the honest-to-gods dragon he was attempting to fight.

“Men! Stand together, we must fight this beast-”

“By Talos, an actual dragon-”

“Help! Help, it's burning!”

Nammu gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the screaming and chaos around him as he sprinted up the stairs, sweaty fingers tightening their grip on his sword. He didn't necessarily think getting to higher ground would help when fighting a dragon (he had never fought anything that flew after all), but at least he was less likely to accidentally catch a guard in the spellfire. By the gods, how on earth was he supposed to fight a dragon?! It breathed fire, so maybe frost would hurt it? Tentative strategy formed, Nammu began frantically throwing frost spikes at the dragon, hoping that he was inflicting at least some minor damage or at the very least a distraction. He watched helplessly as the dragon continued swooping on the guards, breathing fire and snatching men up in its claws before dropping them screaming to the ground below.

“I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide. Krif krin, pruzah!” The dragon roared victoriously, turning to make another pass on the fighting soldiers.

The ice spike that had been gathering in his palm melted away to nothing. Nammu stood in a daze, staring at the dragon still battling the guards. The dragon spoke. More than that, it spoke in the same language as the figure from his dreams and the wall he had found in the barrow. It could not be a coincidence, to have come across it so often in just the past few weeks. But what could it mean?

Still lost in his thoughts, it took Nammu far too long to notice the dragon that was now rapidly approaching the lone dunmer standing foolishly on the roof of the tower. Too slow to react, he could only brace himself as the dragon swooped low, knocking Nammu clean off his feet… and over the edge of the tower. He landed hard, hearing something crunch on impact. Nammu lay briefly stunned in the dirt, stuck staring at the sky as chaos continued to reign around him. Pushing himself up, wincing as he put pressure on what was certainly a broken wrist, Nammu had just gotten onto his knees when the ground shook violently to throw him to the ground once more. He looked up. There before him, staring down at his pitiful figure lying prone in the dirt, was the dragon.

“You are brave, little mortal. Bahlaan hokoron. I am Mirmulnir, and your defeat will bring me honour.”

Limbs shaking, Nammu attempted once more to push himself upwards, fueled by the urge to at least die on his feet rather than lying in the dirt. As he did, he heard another crunch. He looked down. There on the ground, lying under the hand he was tremulously holding himself up with, lay Nammu's goggles. The dark glass was shattered, glinting gently in reflection of the fires that raged around them, sharp edges cutting into his palm. He hardly felt it, however. Instead, Nammu felt that deep rage rising up inside him once more, the very same he had been forced to suppress back in Solitude. The fiery burn clawed up his throat once more, his ears ringing, eyes burning into the fetching beast that had caused all this destruction.

Nammu roared.

Sparks spitting from between gritted teeth, eyes glowing with crimson rage, Nammu snatched his sword from the ground and leapt onto the dragon's snout snarling and swiping. “NID! I will not die today, it is you who will face defeat!”

Screeching in shock, Mirmulnir reared back while whipping his head around, attempting to throw off the enraged dunmer. Nammu just about held on, broken arm screaming in pain as he clung desperately to the dragon’s scales. With his other hand, he swung down and stabbed his sword- deep into Mirmulnir's eye. Feeling the blood and goo run hot down his arm and slickening his grip on his sword, Nammu used the last of his strength to push the blade as deep as it could go before he lost his other hold on the dragon's snout. Falling for a third time, he had no strength left to catch himself before he hit the ground, arm snapping beneath him.

Mirmulnir howled, head thrashing from side to side as blood rained down from his wound. It wasn't just blood however; Nammu watched, barely hanging onto consciousness, as golden sparks began to float off of the dragon as it continued flailing around, drifting almost like ash into the air. A strong wind appeared, gathering the sparks and pulling them with great force towards-

-him.

“Dovahkiin? No!” With a last shout, Mirmulnir's flesh dissolved fully into the golden ash to join the flurry that was rushing into Nammu as he lay there stunned. The wind and bright lights whipped around him for a moment, before sinking into him, settling somewhere deep in his chest to awaken something that had until now lay mostly dormant.

As the wind started to die down Nammu looked up, only to find the remaining guards, Irileth and Inigo gathered around staring at him. One guard tentatively stepped forward, voice hushed in a tone that could only be described as awe.

“I can't believe it. You… are Dragonborn.”

Chapter Text

The wind rushed past, dragging up flurries of snowflakes as it came up the mountain path. The snowflakes swirled around in looping patterns through the air, catching the light and refracting beautiful colours in the sunlight. The great pines from below could still be heard even this high up, rustling and creaking under the weight of the snow. Mount Hrothgar was truly a rather scenic place.

Nammu was freezing his balls off.

“How do I keep ending up in these situations?” Nammu grumbled to himself, stomping up the steps to High Hrothgar. Hopefully it would be warmer inside.

“I would have thought you would be used to this by now, Didn't you go all over Skyrim for the Guild?”

Nammu glared back at Inigo- warm toasty Inigo with thick fur, damn him- “Yeah, but I spent most of my time in crypts. You know, those nice, dry and warm caves underground?”

Inigo shrugged, “No draugr up here though.”

“There was a Frost Troll!”

“Which I distracted with my arrows while you ran past screaming. You are most welcome, friend.”

Nammu chose not dignify this with an answer, instead shoving through the monastery doors. Thankfully it was a lot warmer inside, fires crackling merrily in the braziers scattered about the hall. It had been a couple of weeks since the Greybeards had summoned him, but hopefully they were still expecting him. Nammu had hoped to arrive sooner, but he had needed to wait for his arm to heal and for new glass to be forged for his goggles, not to mention the journey from Whiterun itself. Still, only needing a week to recover broken limbs was a lot faster than the average mortal would require, something Nammu was increasingly coming to understand that he was not.

“I see now why you refused to remove your goggles when speaking to the Jarl.” Irileth had commented, examining his bare face with a critical eye, “slit pupiled like a Khajiit, not to mention the colour. Red, yes, but Dunmer eyes don't glow like that. Other Dunmer would spot that you were different immediately.”

He sighed, fingers reaching up to push his goggles more firmly into place. At the end of the hall, a grey hooded figure turned the corner and descended the stairs to the main chamber. He came to a stop in front of the pair of adventurers, three other hooded figures waiting just behind him.

“So, a Dragonborn comes to us, at this moment in the turning of the age.”

With a gulp, Nammu gave a short bow; “Greybeards, I heard you call to me from Whiterun. I have come to answer your summons.”

The man hummed, “We will see for ourselves if you truly have the gift. Show us Dragonborn, let us have a taste of your Voice.”

Taking in a nervous breath, Nammu let it out again in a rush- “FUS!” 

Although it was only the second time he had done so, using the Voice felt entirely natural to him. Like he was more settled into his skin, something within stretching its wings in contentment.

The hooded man in front stumbled under the force of his Shout, before straightening again, eyes twinkling in excitement. “Dragonborn, it is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar, I am Master Arngeir and I speak for the Greybeards. Tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come to us here?”

The dunmer tilted his head, “I came because you called me here? I assume you called because you wanted to speak to me.”

Arngeir gave a small smile. “That is why we called you. But what did you seek by coming here? Surely you have come looking for more than just conversation with some old men.”

“I suppose… that I would like to know more. What it means to be Dragonborn, about the Voice. Everything that you are able to tell me, really.”

“Ah, you seek knowledge. A noble cause indeed. We can guide you in that pursuit, just as the Greybeards have guided those of the Dragonblood that came before you.”

“There are others? Are they here, can I speak to them?” Unbeknownst to him, Nammu had stepped forward at this revelation, thrumming with carefully restrained excitement.

Arngeir hummed thoughtfully, eyeing the elf before him, before replying. “I'm afraid that would not be possible. While you are not the first, you are the only one that has been revealed to us in this age. There have been many of the Dragonblood since Akatosh first bestowed his gift on Mankind, but sadly they have long since passed.”

Nammu deflated, “Oh. In that case then… I am ready to learn, Master Arngeir. Please teach me what you know of the Voice.”

“Come this way, Dragonborn,” Arngeir said, nodding approvingly. “There are a few lessons  we would like to run through, before we send you off for your first trial…”

--------------------

Nammu progressed quickly through the lessons, learning new Words and Shouting like he had been born to do it…which he supposed he had. He was also finding that the more Words he was taught by the Greybeards, the easier it was becoming to recall some of the Dovahzul (he was so glad he knew the name of it now) he had forgotten from his childhood. To the point where he had occasionally, in his excitement, blurted out the translation before Arngeir had given it to him- a habit that earnt him a few curious looks that he was studiously pretending not to notice.

Before he knew it, the Greybeards had sent him off to Ustengrav in search of the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Glad to be back on familiar ground (and in a nice warm crypt, thank you Inigo) the two adventurers progressed quickly through the tomb. Everything had been going swimmingly and Nammu had even learnt a new Word- Feim, when-

“Inigo, please tell me my eyes are deceiving me and I'm not looking at a piece of paper where the Horn should be.”

Inigo stepped before the pedestal, making a show of closely inspecting the tomb and sniffing about, before turning dramatically to face Nammu, hands on his hips. “No can do boss. Looks like whoever took it was here recently too, so we've just missed it.”

“Two failed retrievals,” Nammu sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Two out of three artifacts lost. This cannot be happening. Inigo, promise me you won't tell anyone, the Guild will give my job back to Maressi at this rate. Worse, they'll laugh at me.” He sighed again, dropping his hand to start looking for the exit. “Right, let's read this note and find out where the Horn has gone then. Maybe we'll find it wherever my reputation seems to have fled to.”

The note led them back to Riverwood, to the local inn which was run by a woman who introduced herself as Delphine. She led Nammu down to a hidden basement room filled with adventuring paraphernalia; swords, potions, armour and the like, as well as what appeared to be a copy of the Dragonstone on the desk. Inigo, much to his dismay, had been left upstairs at Delphine's request.

Delphine stared at Nammu from across the table, shrewdly examining him from head to toe. 

“So you're the one the Greybeards are calling Dragonborn. I have to say, you are not what I was expecting.”

Nammu raised an eyebrow, “Sorry to disappoint. What's with all the cloak and dagger? Not that this whole undercover identity, secret base thing you’ve got going on isn't impressive, but I do have places to be.”

Eyes now narrowed, Delphine turned the parchment in front of her in Nammu's direction. He glanced over it while she continued in a notably more frosty tone; “I didn't go to all this trouble on a whim. The Thalmor have spies everywhere, and I needed to be sure you were indeed the Dragonborn before I enlisted your help with this. Believe it or not, I am trying to help you.”

“Go on then, I'm listening.”

“Thank you,” she huffed, “now, I am part of a group that has been looking for someone like you for a very long time. We need a Dragonborn. And while the Greybeards seem convinced, I'll need you to prove yourself before I can trust you any further.”

“And how do I know I can trust you? All you have done so far is interfere with my plans and lure me to secret basement lairs.”

“You still came. To step in here without trusting me to some degree would only make you a fool.”

Nammu looked up from the sketch (the Dragonstone laid over a map of Skyrim?), “And yet I did step in here despite having no reason to trust you. I even left my companion upstairs at your request. Am I still not worth a small measure of trust in return?”

“Not yet. I still need to confirm you truly are Dragonborn first.”

He huffed in frustration, “Why are you even looking for a Dragonborn?”

“We remember what many do not- the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragonslayer. You don't just kill dragons, you absorb their soul when they die. You have done this, haven't you? I know you killed that dragon in Whiterun- did you devour its soul when it died?”

Nammu gave a short nod.

“Good. This is why we need you for this task. You see the dragons are not just coming back- they’re coming back to life. Some of the dragons we have seen were killed off centuries ago by my predecessors, yet something has brought them back to life.” She indicated an area on the map. “The resurrections are following a pattern; I think I have identified the next site. Kynesgrove. We need to go there, confirm the dragons are being brought back to life, and then you are going to kill it. Once you've done this, I will tell you anything you want to know.”

Nammu gazed at her steadily from behind dark glass. He was tempted to turn down her offer on principle; something about Delphine was rubbing him the wrong way. Wrestling that instinct down however, he had to acknowledge that it would be better to go along with her plan. Currently Nammu knew very little about dragons or his newly-minted status as Dragonborn, and as little as he liked her, Delphine did seem somewhat willing to share her knowledge with him.

He sighed begrudgingly. While it was the most logical path, that didn't mean he had to like it. “Very well. I'll meet you at Kynesgrove. I suppose you won't  give me back the Horn until afterwards too?”

Delphine grinned sharply, “I'll give it to you now. Consider it a gesture of goodwill.”

--------------------

The entire journey to Kynesgrove was carried out in a tense silence. Nammu and Delphine maintained such a frosty atmosphere that not even the normally very chatty Inigo seemed able to break it. It was rather quickly shattered, however, by the screaming woman they encountered just as they started up the path to the burial site.  

“Turn back! A dragon- it's attacking!”

Nammu and Delphine exchanged a grim look, before they both turned as one and started racing up the path. Upon glimpsing the distinctly spiky figure of the dragon ahead however, Nammu quickly switched tactics, dragging a protesting Delphine to crouch with him behind a nearby boulder. The three adventurers quickly huddled down to watch the dragon approach the burial mound.

“Why are we hiding-”

“Shut up!” Nammu hissed, “Inigo, isn't that the same dragon we saw in Helgen?”

“No mistaking it, my friend. I wouldn't forget that spiky mug in a hurry.”

Delphine stopped grumbling, watching now with interest as the dragon came to a stop just above the mound.

The dragon seemed to contemplate the mound for a brief moment, before it opened its jaw and spoke with a deep, earth-shaking rumble; “Sahloknir! Ziil gro dovah ulse. Slen Tiid Vo!”

At the dragon's Shout- for that's the only thing it could be- the ground began to rumble and shake. The dirt of the burial mound split open, and from it emerged a great skeleton. Nammu watched, his gut sinking in dismay as flesh began reforming over the bones, soon followed by gleaming grey scales. The sight was almost perverse, an almost complete reversal of what he had seen when he had killed Mirmulnir. 

What terrible power was this, to be able to call a dragon back from the dead?

The newly resurrected dragon shook the dirt from its scales. “Alduin, thuri! Boaan tiid vokriiha suleyksejun kruziik?”

The great black dragon, Alduin, gave a rumbling laugh (and wasn't that a terrifying sound?); “Geh, Sahloknir, kaali mir.” Alduin then turned his head to the boulder that the watching party were crouched behind. Nammu felt his blood turn to ice as he suddenly found himself pinned under a burning crimson gaze. “Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nul dov do hi.”

Try as he might, Nammu could only make out very few of the words being spoken to him. He had the distinct impression that he was being tested and found wanting. A feeling that was only further compounded when Alduin snorted in disgust.

“You do not even understand our tongue, do you? To have the gall to call yourself Dovah- pathetic. Sahloknir, krii daar joore.”

No translation for that was needed, as Nammu soon found himself staring down the open maw of the other dragon, which had been steadily creeping closer as he and Alduin conversed (or rather, Alduin ruthlessly mocked him while he stood there like a fool). He quickly moved out of the way of the snapping jaw, which just barely missed the trailing end of his scarf. He felt the beast’s fetid breath caress the top of his head as he found himself ducking yet again as Sahloknir released a quick burst of fire at his scrambling companions.

One would have thought that three somewhat experienced adventurers would have little trouble fighting a freshly-resurrected dragon. This was certainly true to begin with: they quickly coordinated a strategy of Inigo and Delphine shooting at the dragon with their bows, while Nammu provided covering spellfire. The problem was that dragons had very few soft spots, and those few they knew of were extremely difficult to reach when the dragon in question refused to land. What then followed was a long, drawn out battle where both parties whittled away at each other's defenses- and indeed their patience. Nammu certainly felt his own was being stretched to its limit.

Patience was something he could probably stand to work on, he later reflected as he lay on the ground somewhat scorched, the last golden flecks of Saahloknir's soul settling on his prone form. Somewhere to his left, Delphne was rambling on about their next steps now she finally had confirmation he was dragonborn. He wasn't really paying attention. The heat of battle was probably not the best place to test the extent of his natural fire resistance. At least he knew better for next time- down a potion of fire resistance before he decided to rush in head first to blindly stab at the eyes of a dragon while it breathed fire at him.

Nammu coughed, stirring up the soul embers again- and some literal embers from his smoking armour. He should really invest in some better gear if he was going to be fighting dragons this often.

Delphine was still talking; “-that's why we should try to get into the Thalmor Embassy. I'll need some time to sort the details, but you should probably report back to the Greybeards in the meantime. Are you even listening to me? Why are you still laying on the ground?”

Nammu groaned.

--------------------

It was a significantly more scorched and worn Nammu that returned to High Hrothgar. Arngeir very politely didn't comment on his condition, nor the length of time he had taken to return. Instead, he and the other Greybeards commenced with the ceremony to officially name him Dragonborn. Sadly, Nammu was too out of it to appreciate most of it-  the Greybeards naming him Ysmir briefly caught his interest, but when he learnt it was a title given to all Dovahkiin he soon lost it.

Nammu was exhausted.

The last few weeks had been a non-stop blur of traveling, fighting and coming to grips with being dragonborn. He had had so much new information crammed into his head he could almost feel it falling back out of his ears. There had been no time to sit and simply absorb any of this. The thought of leaving High Hrothgar now and making the long walk back down the mountain- that he had just climbed- was almost enough to bring him to tears.

Perhaps sensing this, Arngeir kindly offered Nammu and Inigo use of the spare beds for the night. Beyond grateful, Nammu barely got his boots off before collapsing face-first into a heap. He was asleep before his head even reached the pillow.

The green sky above swirled in nauseating circles. He couldn't see much else, hemmed in as he was by towering metal trellises and bookshelves stuffed to the brim with books of all sizes and colours. He was in the same plane it seemed, just a different location this time. Not the platform from before.

Behind him, there came the sound of someone shuffling papers and muttering to themselves.

Wo nii kos… Vaermina? Nuz laat tiid ni…

Holding his breath, too frightened to turn around, Nammu began slowly making his way towards a gap in the walls surrounding him. He moved very carefully, fervently praying he would not alert the figure behind to his presence.

Ruz dovahkiin, nii fen kos. Ruth!

Suddenly, a loud smash. Something, perhaps an inkpot, was thrown across the room to shatter against the metal grating not far from Nammu's head. Unable to suppress his surprised yelp, Nammu moved quickly; darting through the hidden doorway, he sprinted down the short hallway beyond and threw himself under a desk. Squeezing between the stacks of books crammed underneath, he just about managed to wiggle his entire body into the cramped space- just in time too. Clamping a hand over his mouth and nose to muffle the sound of his panicked breathing, Nammu watched as a gloved hand came into view, casting a Magelight into the dim corridor as the figure stepped through the doorway.

The ever-present shadows retreated, leaving his view of the figure completely unobstructed. The man- though he was still guessing here- was very tall, taller even than most nords he had come across. His robes were extremely tattered; they looked like they might have been a dark blue at some point, but age had warped the colours to a murky brown. Even the metal embellishments were tarnished, scaled gauntlets and pauldrons glinting dully beneath the light. It was impossible to tell whether the figure was man or mer, completely covered as he was with a hood hiding his head and ears from view.

What really stood out, however, was the mask. While he had seen brief glimpses before, under Magelight there was no hiding how utterly terrifying it was. Made of the same materials as the rest of his armour, the mask covered the man's face completely in smooth, inexpressive metal. There were only thin slits where his eyes should be, and his lower face was obscured by a mess of tentacles. More tentacles curved over the top of the head and outward slightly, reminiscent of dragon horns. Altogether, the mask appeared otherworldly, and as a result completely and utterly terrifying.

Fingers tightening, Nammu tried to suppress his growing panic as he watched the man look around, before making his way down the hall in the direction of his hiding spot. Worn leather boots moved almost silently, barely disturbing the many scattered papers that lay across the floor.

“Kolos hi?”

The man continued further down the hall.  

“I know you are still here…where are you?”

Moving his other hand up to join the first in covering his mouth, Nammu curled up tighter under the desk. His heart was pounding. Hearing the man speak to him in Common was somehow ten times more terrifying than hearing Dovahzul. At least then he couldn't understand just how threatening he was.

The footsteps continued, getting closer and closer to his hiding spot. “ Where are you dovahkiin? That is what you are, isn't it?” The man's voice had taken on a mocking, cooing tone as he continued searching. “ A little fledgling dovahkiin, freshly awoken, stumbling around in the dark. The gods always seem to send them to me. Why though, I cannot say.”

The man walked past, boots coming within inches of Nammu's face as he prowled further down the corridor, sickly-sweet threats still falling from his lips.

“Dovahkiin? Kolos hi, dovahkiin? Hi mindoraan… do you understand me mal dovah?”

“COME OUT!”

The sudden shout surprised him- while he was wound so tight movement was impossible, an involuntary whimper managed to escape past his muffling hands. At the other end of the hall, the footsteps came to a stop.

It was completely silent. Nammu didn't dare to move, was barely even breathing as he waited in the tense silence. The Magelight winked out, shadows creeping back once more. Nammu waited. His lungs burned, muscles screaming from how tightly he was wound, frantically praying to any god that might listen that he would just wake up!

A clawed hand clamped down suddenly on his ankle.

Nammu screamed.

--------------------

The dunmer sat up in bed, terrified scream abruptly cutting off. He quickly looked over, relieved to see Inigo still snoring undisturbed. Exhaling shakily, he ran a trembling hand down his face. His ankle, the one that had been grabbed throbbed rapidly in time with his heartbeat. Nammu tugged up his trouser leg, exposing the dark finger-shaped bruises that were starting to appear.

The injuries from his dream had followed him into the waking world. That had certainly never happened before.

Knowing he had no chance of going back to sleep tonight, Nammu got out of the bed and pulled on his boots, intent on wandering the halls of High Hrothgar. Hopefully the cold would help keep him awake- not that he needed much help.

Coming to a stop near a window, Nammu looked out into the cold tundra that lay outside. The moon provided just enough light that he could see the distant trees swaying in the gale that howled past. He shivered, pulling his scarf tighter around himself. On any other night he would have sought out the fireplace, or at least a torch to hold back the cold. Tonight however, he found a stray comfort in the darkness surrounding him, hiding his form away from that piercing gaze he could still feel crawling up the back of his neck.

A scrape against stone. “Having trouble sleeping, Dovahkiin?”

Nammu jumped, whipping around to face the figure that had appeared behind him. Grey robes, long beard- “Arngeir”, Nammu sighed, releasing the firebolt that he had started to gather in his hand; “Apologies, I didn't mean to disturb anyone.”

Arngeir hummed thoughtfully, gaze assessing as he watched Nammu turn back to face the window. “Perhaps I could be of assistance. What is it that troubles your mind?”

Nammu glanced back, considering. On the one hand, he didn't really want to spill his fears and worries to this man he had only just met. But on the other hand… he should probably talk to somebody. And he really, really wanted to be able to go back to sleep.

“... these other dragonborn that you say came here before. Did they ever mention having weird dreams?”

Arngeir shifted, taking a thoughtful stance. “There is no mention of dreams in the records, from what I recall. What is it about them that you would say is unusual? Perhaps they are prophetic in nature?”

The dunmer sighed heavily, “No, I don't think they're prophecies. I just have a feeling that… are you certain that there are no other dragonborn? Am I really the only one left?”

“There has never been more than one dovahkiin in an era,” Arngeir replied gently, “those of the dragonblood, yes, but not true dragonborn like yourself.”

“Yeah,” Nammu whispered, studying his lone reflection in the glass, “I thought you might say that.”

This belief was to be short lived, however, as only the next day Nammu and Inigo would defeat cultists at the foot of the mountain that bore a letter reading:

Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the dunmer they are falsely calling the Dragonborn before he reaches Solstheim.

Return with news of your success and Miraak, the True Dragonborn, shall be most pleased.

Chapter Text

Nammu stared at the crumpled, bloodstained note in his hand. Miraak… Could this be the name of his mysterious dream visitor? It seemed to be too much of a coincidence, that the day after the figure had threatened him followers of ‘the True Dragonborn’ would attempt to kill him. If this Miraak and the man from the dreams were the same person, then that would also confirm his theory that the man was dragonborn as well.

Also… Nammu glanced at the cultists lying crumpled on the ground, just visible through the legs of the townspeople of Ivarstead crowding around. He recognised those masks.

Bone-white masks peering at him through the entrance of his hiding place, “Are you the one they call no-name?”...

…spitting and snarling, he struggled against the iron grip of the masked cultist dragging him through the ash wasteland. “Our master will be very interested to hear where you learnt such words…”

…Master Neloth backhanded him across the face, sending him sprawling onto the floor. “Interfere with my projects again, and I might just sell you to those cultists that have been looking for you.”

“Are you alright my friend?”

Nammu snapped back to the present, meeting Inigo's concerned gaze. “It's nothing, I just…this note, it comes from Solstheim.”

He passed the note over to Inigo who looked it over, eyes widening in understanding, “Another dragonborn? And one who is not fond of competition by the looks of it. Normally I would suggest we investigate it further, but if that means going to Solstheim-”

“No,” Nammu cut him off firmly, “I have no intention of going back to Solstheim. Dragonborn or not, this Miraak clearly wants me dead and I have no desire to make it any easier for him. Let's just carry on to Solitude, Delphine said something about getting into the Thalmor Embassy…also, I should really let Auryen know that I'm still alive.”

--------------------

Privately, Nammu had some reservations about Delphine's plan to infiltrate the Thalmor Embassy. For one thing, it really didn't fit with their usual methods; from the very few interactions he had had with Thalmor agents, they always seemed much more concerned with rooting out potential Talos worship than bringing back dragons. In fact, the return of the dragons seemed like the sort of event that would stir up more Talos worship, associated with dragons as he was.

No, Nammu thought to himself, investigating the Thalmor seemed a move informed by Delphine's personal biases than by an actual belief in their involvement. Not that he was necessarily opposed; there was certainly no love lost between him and the Thalmor. No, his problem was that Delphine's plan to get him into the party was completely and utterly shit.

“You want to do what?”

“We'll secure you an invitation by carefully dropping hints to the right individuals that you're the dragonborn. That's bound to catch Elenwen's attention, especially with everything that's been going on-”

Nammu cut her off; “No. I don't want it to be public knowledge that I'm the dragonborn, much less my current whereabouts. You'll have to find another way to secure the invitation.”

“There is no other way,” Delphine huffed, crossing her arms. “I certainly can't procure one myself, given the… history between myself and the Thalmor. Unless you know anyone else that might be important enough to secure an invitation, using your status is the only way.”

They glared at each other, neither one backing down. Nammu really didn’t want to go through with Delphine's plan, but who did he know that would be important enough to be invited to the Embassy? He didn't exactly have a lot of friends, and he doubted he and Jarl Balgruuf were close enough that he could call on him for this sort of favour this early. Nor did he know many high elves…

Nammu hummed consideringly, eyes drifting to the museum tower he could see peeking over the city walls. “Actually, I might know of someone.”

And indeed, his hunch was correct. 

“Why yes, I did receive an invitation to Elenwen's party,” Auryen said, filing away the Dragonstone sketch Nammu had brought back for him. “I had intended to send back a polite refusal however; I've been much too busy here with the museum, what with the sudden disappearance of my chief relic hunter.” Nammu shifted awkwardly, ducking his head under Auryen's chiding gaze. “Also, I've never much cared for the Thalmor's extremist views. Why do you ask?”

Nammu cleared his throat. “I need to get into the party, and I'd rather not use the fact I'm the dragonborn to get an invite. Do you think Elenwen would accept you sending a proxy in your stead?”

“I don't see why not. You are, after all, my Guildmaster.” Aureyen's eyes suddenly lit up in excitement. “While we are on the topic of you being dragonborn: come, I have something to show you. I've been doing some renovations while you have been away.”

Auryen led him through the museum to a previously empty hall, which now bore a shiny new plaque above the door: Dragonborn Hall. Pushing through the double doors, Auryen continued to chatter excitedly about the changes he had made; “Once I had determined that you were in fact, still alive, and had been named the dragonborn, I knew I had to get to work immediately. People were bound to be interested in your exploits, and so I thought I could set up some displays in here for all your achievements as you progress on your journey. Look, I have already set up a display to commemorate your status as Guildmaster in the Adventurer's Guild-”

Nammu came to a stop, taking in the hall as Auryen continued on. It was a truly grand hall, marble walls stretching up to a domed ceiling made of beautiful stained glass. Carved alcoves lined the hall, waiting to be filled with displays and artifacts from his travels. Once completed, it was certain to be a spectacle, but for now-

Nammu felt his gut twist. Staring at the hall as it was now, empty and hollow, it reminded him of a gaping, hungry maw waiting to swallow him up. White marble alcoves became teeth, the dark metal carving on the floor a waiting gullet. Instead of awe, or inspiration or any other positive feeling he was sure Auryen was hoping to invoke, he only felt…

Apprehensive. Anxious. Scared. Unworthy.

He coughed awkwardly, “Yes, thank you, it's really lovely Auryen. I'm really sorry, but I am in a bit of a hurry, so if I could get that invitation…?”

“Oh, yes of course,” Auryen replied, blinking in bewilderment, “if you'll just come to my office, I'm sure I left it there. We can also go through the new artifact transport system if you can spare a bit more time. I devised it as an easier method for you to pass along items of interest, rather than lugging them around with you all the time..”

Nammu was more than happy to follow, hoping his eagerness to leave wasn't too obvious. The great double doors shut once more, leaving the hall and the weight of its expectations behind him.

--------------------

They still had a few weeks until the party, and with Delphine happy to accept his compromise Nammu decided to spend the time doing what he did best: exploring the local caves and ruins in search of obscure artifacts. 

Arngeir had also given him a short list of locations where he claimed to feel ‘a source of power’- or something to that effect. Considering Nammu only knew a few Words, he figured he should probably work on expanding his repertoire. He was bound to need it in the coming days.

The question of why he hadn't come across any word walls sooner (and really, how was that possible?) was soon answered, when Nammu was thrown into said word wall by an enraged hag that he had fought leagues of Forsworn to get to. He hated Forsworn. And hags. And being thrown into walls, actually.

Nammu groaned, pushing himself up onto his knees, head spinning nauseatingly. He squinted, trying to get his eyes to focus on the hag before him. Inigo had closed the distance to fight the hag head on - likely to give Nammu the time he needed to get his bearings. He attempted to get to his feet, only to collapse once more to his knees, head spinning. 

He really hated fighting hags.

Nammu huffed in frustration, trying once more to focus his vision on the fight before him. If he waited, there might be an opening.

Inigo ducked and rolled away, just missing the hags claws as she swiped at him. The hag snarled in outrage, and made to step forward in pursuit-

“FUS!”

-only to be blown over the edge of the cliff, terrified screech cutting off as she crashed to the ground below.

Wheezing with exertion, Nammu collapsed against the base of the wall. Blood dripped steadily from his head onto the stone beneath him. His arm still stung with frost from the damned hag's fetching atronach. He muttered a healing spell, feeling the warmth spread over his body and start working on mending his various wounds. Restoration wasn't his strongest school, but he knew just enough to stop his head spinning at least.

That fight certainly wasn't his best work.

Hearing the scrape of stone as Inigo came over, Nammu forced himself onto his feet, turning towards the wall that had been incessantly chanting in his ear for some time now. Tiid - time. Well, he had known the meaning of the  word before, but apparently hadn't truly known it. And he still didn't fully, he mused as he rolled the word around in his head. The knowledge didn't feel complete. The word felt…hollow in some way.

It seems he would need to consume a dragon's soul, to fully understand it.

He sighed. Well, that wouldn't be happening any time soon, that was for certain. He was in no shape at the moment to go pursuing any dragons, and to be honest he wouldn't know where to start looking either.

“Well, my friend? Did you learn something?”

“Not enough,” Nammu said, turning to accept the health potion Inigo was holding out to him, “I'll need to consume a soul before I'll be able to use the word as a Shout. It is interesting though- apparently having prior knowledge of the word isn't enough to give me the ability to use it.”

Inigo shifted slightly, posture giving away his discomfort with Nammu's words; “Are you sure this is something you wish to pursue, this dragon hunting? It's just, that soul-eating thing you do… it doesn't smell natural my friend.”’

“Really?” Nammu hummed consideringly, head tilted as he studied the wall before him. Looking at the words, he again felt that same pang of familiarity, quickly followed by frustration at his inability to understand the letters etched into the stone. “Because it feels like the most natural thing in the world.”

He tried to smile reassuringly at Inigo's worried expression. He wasn't sure he succeeded, the blood all over his face probably didn't help. “Come, we'll leave it for now. We should really start heading back anyways, if we are to make it in time for the party.”

“Are you sure you don't want to rest first? You took a very nasty hit my friend, and you haven't really slept since we left the Greybeards…”

Nammu gave a somewhat strained laugh, clapping a hand onto Inigo's shoulder as he passed. “Nonsense, I feel absolutely fine. Dandy even! That potion of yours really works miracles, Inigo, I keep telling you that you'd make a fortune if you sold the things…”

Nammu would soon come to regret his lack of rest, however, as he found himself fighting off yawns as he stood under Elenwen's shrewd gaze only a week later. Pushing up his goggles (he had won the argument with Delphine to keep them), he went for a bright smile he hoped would read as eccentric academic, rather than the supposed dragonborn of legend.

It appears to work, as Elenwen lets him in without further comment. In fact, the whole mission goes rather smoothly for once, aside from the fact that Nammu apparently cannot pull off Thalmor robes, and he soon finds himself on the road again back towards Riften in search of Delphine's associate. The dossiers he found in the interrogation chamber were an interesting discovery, however. As well as learning more about Delphine and the Blades, he had managed to find a folder the Thalmor were gathering on him.

Status : Active (possible asset, capture only). High priority, Emissary Level Approval

Description : Dragonborn. Male, appearance and age unknown. Possibly dunmer (rumour, unconfirmed)

Background : The dragonborn, a figure that appears in nord legends, appears to have arisen at the same time as the dragons returned to Skyrim. We know he has been summoned by the Greybeards to High Hrothgar and was involved in the slaying of the dragon at Whiterun. Other than that, there has been very little information to be found at this time. 

Operational notes : As with Esbern (see dossier), the dragonborn may have information on the return of the dragons, so capture is the priority. Dragonborn historically also have links to Talos, so will need to be questioned on possible Talos worship.

Currently we have very little idea of the dragonborn's appearance, motives or whereabouts. Whoever he is, he is laying low for now. Due to known links historically, the dragonborn may be approached by members of the Blades such as Delphine or Esbern, both high priority targets. If found, the dragonborn must be closely questioned and monitored for possible contact with these two individuals.

At the very least, it was nice to know they had no idea who he was. Though the revelation that they were also searching for him was somewhat frustrating. First the dream figure, then the cultists, and now the Thalmor. Really, Nammu should probably find it funny that he was suddenly so wanted.

This amusement was short-lived however, as he soon encountered Thalmor agents in the Ratway. He had found Esbern like he intended, but wasn't expecting the Thalmor to be so close behind. Which he really should have, in hindsight. There was an entire dossier in his bag on how badly they had wanted to find Esbern. The lack of sleep must be getting to him.

It didn't matter. They were dead now, so at least they couldn't report back to Elenwen.

Esbern seemed grateful for the rescue (at least, Nammu was choosing to take his chattering about the Blades and dragons as gratitude), and was keen to meet up with Delphine as soon as possible, but Nammu was tired. He was barely holding onto his sword, his fingers were so weak, and he hadn't had the energy to cast spells for the past three days. Inigo was right, he couldn't keep going at his current pace. 

Not that he'd ever admit that to his face. The gloating would be insufferable.

So with that in mind, Nammu convinced a rather reluctant Inigo to escort Esbern back to Riverwood ahead of him, with the promise that he would catch up as soon as he could once he'd had some rest. Being back in a familiar city and resting in his own bed, Nammu felt safe enough to finally drift off to sleep.

Kolos hi Dovahkiin…

… where are you hiding away? Come out little dovahkiin…

I will find you eventually. And when I do…

The dark chuckle that followed still reverberating against his ear, Nammu sat up in bed with a gasp. Hand clapped over his tingling ear, he glanced outside. Massa and Secunda were just visible through the window, the twin moons glowing mockingly bright against the pitch dark outside. He had been asleep for a couple hours at most. Falling back with a groan, Nammu resigned himself to yet another sleepless night.

So much for catching up on some rest…

--------------------

It took longer than he'd hoped to catch up with Inigo and Esbern. By the time he found them again, they had already met up with Delphine at the Sleeping Giant. She and Esbern were deep in discussion, talking with the familiarity of longtime friends.

Speaking of longtime friends- part of the reason Nammu had dragged his heels on the return to Riverwood was an attempt to disguise his lack of sleep from Inigo, whom he could see hanging back slightly from the two Blades. If he could just sneak around the other side and strike up a conversation with Delphine, then maybe he wouldn't notice-

Inigo's orange eyes snapped up as the floorboard creaked beneath his foot. The relief in his gaze quickly turned to disapproval as the sharp-eyed Khajiit caught sight of Nammu's deep eyebags and trembling hands.

Great. Nammu could be certain of another lecture tonight then.

Having also caught sight of him, Delphine turned to face Nammu, still frozen in the doorway. “You made it, safe and sound I see. Come, let's go somewhere else so we can talk.”

They all went down to the hidden basement together- Inigo apparently having proven his worth this time. Esbern went immediately over to the bookshelves, seeming to search for something, muttering away under his breath. Behind him, Delphine rolled her eyes- this was apparently a common occurrence.

“I know I had it here somewhere… Ah hah! Here it is, come Dragonborn, have a look,” clutching a roll of parchment in hand, Esbern hurried back over to the table to unroll it. It was a map, and a very old one by the looks of it. “You see, right here. Sky Haven Temple. It was constructed around one of the main Akaviri military camps in the Reach, during their conquest of Skyrim. This is where we'll find Alduin's Wall.”

That caught Nammu's attention; “Alduin’s Wall, truly? You think there might be more information on the prophecy you mentioned there?”

“Precisely! My, you are quick aren't you? But yes, I do believe the wall might contain some lost knowledge on Alduin, perhaps even the means to defeat him.”

Delphine stood straighter at this declaration. Until now, she had been simply watching Nammu and Esbern converse, a slight frown creasing her brow. “What prophecy? Esbern, just how many secrets have you been sharing with the Dragonborn? What is this wall you are both so excited about?”

“You mean you haven't heard of Alduin's Wall?!” Both Nammu and Esbern exclaim at the same time. They share a chuckle, the camaraderie of scholars, before Esbern continues; “Alduin's Wall is where the ancient Blades recorded all they knew of Alduin and his return. It's part history, part prophecy. The real question however, is how you knew of its existence. It is a rather obscure piece of knowledge.” He turned to look at the dunmer, face expectant.

Well, there was no point hiding it any longer. Not that he was keeping it a secret, per se, he was just very reluctant to share details of himself with a stranger, friendly or not (definitely not, in Delphine's case). “I learnt about the wall from several Akaviri ruins I excavated for the museum. There were quite a few references to a central location and a wall that guarded lost knowledge- though admittedly I thought it to be more metaphorical than a literal wall.” He tilted his head, deeply amused at their dumbfounded expressions. “Sorry, did I not mention I worked for the museum in Solitude? Must have slipped my mind…”

“Put them out of their misery, friend,” Inigo sighed, apparently not in the mood to put up with Nammu's usual mischief. Damn, he really was annoyed with him. “He's the Guildmaster for the Adventurer's Guild attached to the museum, and specialises in Akaviri knowledge. Just assume he already knows what you're talking about, no matter what he says.” This is said with yet another disapproving look thrown at the dunmer. Nammu winced. He was really in for it later.

Esbern blinked stupidly, apparently trying to process this new information. If Nammu hadn't deliberately been trying to mislead them, he would be offended that they found his intelligence to be so surprising. Just because he could swing a sword didn't mean he didn't also like to read, honestly. “Yes well… the wall does exist, and now we know its location. Making our way there seems to be the next logical step, yes?”

“Indeed,” Delphine agreed, eyes once again assessing Nammu shrewdly. “I know the area of the Reach Esbern is talking about. It's near what is now known as Karthspire, in the Karth River canyon. We can all travel together, take the south road through Falkreath, or we can meet you there. Your choice.”

He shook his head, “I'll meet you there. I need to resupply, so I'll catch a carriage in Whiterun and travel from Markarth. Hopefully I won't be much longer.”

“Very well, we'll meet you in Karthspire. Take care, the Reach is wild country these days. Lots of Forsworn about.”

He grumbled in acknowledgement. More Forsworn, great. His favourite. Nammu couldn't wait.

--------------------

The Bannered Mare was crowded tonight. There was a traveling bard in town, and the townsfolk had flooded in to enjoy the music. Inigo sat down at the table they had secured in the corner, placing a tankard in front of Nammu as he passed. He took a fortifying sip from his own cup still in hand, before placing it down with a definitive thud; “My friend. I believe we need to have a talk.”

Nammu gave a tired nod, gaze not lifting from where his finger was tracing patterns in the wood grain. His eyes felt heavy, like lead weights were pulling on the lids. “How do you think I'm doing Inigo?”

The Khajiit gave a disapproving snort. “You think I merely want to give you a performance review? Have it your way.” Ears pinning back, he continued in a mocking tone; “Here's what I know about you: you are a wanderer, you favour one handed weapons, you are quite skilled with destruction magic, and oh, you haven't been sleeping.”

Nammu winced, unable to deny the accusation. The bags under his eyes were rather telling after all. It had also been quite some time since Inigo had been truly upset with him, and it was just as uncomfortable as he remembered. Seeing Nammu cringe away from his words seemed to soften something in Inigo however, and he sighed deeply, ears returning to their usual posture. “I am not trying to tell you off my friend, I am simply worried about you. You are running across the whole of Skyrim, chasing leads while ignoring the glaringly obvious one I know you have tucked into your pocket. On top of all this traveling and fighting, you refuse to rest and you're barely eating. At the rate you are going, you are going to run yourself into an early grave. My friend, Nammu, please,” he reached across the table to grasp the dunmer’s shaking hand, stilling the reflexive flinch at the use of his name. “I know you don't have fond memories of being there, but what is it about Solstheim that has you so scared? It is unlike you not to follow up on a lead like this, even if it does lead somewhere unpleasant.”

Nammu swallowed, eyes finally lifting to meet Inigo's imploring gaze. He didn't want to say anything, and if it were anyone else he would keep his mouth shut. But this was Inigo, one of his only friends- perhaps the dearest of them. If he could share this with anyone, it would be him. He clutched tighter at the hand still holding his, trying to draw strength from its warmth. “I swore to myself I'd never speak of it,” he whispered, eyes still locked onto encouraging amber. “I hoped to leave that life, the person I was, behind me.”

“You can't keep running from this Nammu,” Inigo whispered back, adopting the same hushed tone, ”let me help carry this for you my friend. Why don't you want to return to Solstheim?”

And well, how was he supposed to argue against that? Such sincere care, care for him, had been so rare until now.

“Okay.” he exhaled shakily, empty hand lifting to push his goggles up to his forehead. The glowing red of his eyes, wide and vulnerable, finally bared as he prepared to lay out his soul for his nearest and dearest of friends. “When I was a boy living around Raven Rock, the people there noticed that I looked somewhat strange. You know, the glowing eyes, sharp teeth, you get the picture. They probably would have overlooked it, however, if it weren't for my behaviour…”

“B'vehk! Get off of him!” Harsh hands dragged him off of the shopkeeper's boy, his teeth ripping skin as he was thrown to the ground still hissing and spitting sparks. The boy, Drovas or something like that, continued to wail on the ground as the guard rounded on him. “Beastly creature, what could he have possibly done to deserve this?”

Nammu spat on the ground, blood and ash splattering onto the dirt. “He called me that horrible name again! I warned him he'd regret it but he didn't listen.”

“Well it's not as though you have a name of your own is it, Nammu ,” the guard sneered, “I thought we told you to stay out of Raven Rock. Get out of here n'wah, before we ask the wizard to come collect you again.”

With a final hiss of displeasure at the boy still curled up crying, Nammu swiftly got to his feet and sprinted for the gate. The townspeople that had gathered to watch the spectacle leapt out of his path, spitting on the ground with disgust as he went past.  Nammu didn't stop running until he had made it to the dilapidated shack he had been sleeping in a few miles away.

Curling up under his tattered blanket, Nammu resigned himself to being hungry for a little while longer. He'd only wanted some stew from the tavern, and he even had coin to pay for it this time, but that stupid Drovas had got in the way. Now he had no food and no coin, having dropped it in the scuffle. Annoyed with himself for losing his temper, and trying to ignore the cramping of his empty stomach, he drifted into an uneasy sleep…

…only to open his eyes in a hazy green environment, a dark cloaked figure in a golden mask standing before him.

“ Los daar? Fahliil kiir? ”

Nammu blinked in surprise. “Uh, hello? Where am I?”

“ Ah, ni mindoraan Dovahzul. Britmindok. ” The man figure hummed thoughtfully, voice a deep rumble as he stepped closer to the young dunmer. “ Hi het? ”

“I'm sorry sir, I don't understand what you are saying. Who are you? Where are we?” He looked around, unable to make out anything beyond the thick green fog that coated everything. He turned back to the man, the only somewhat-clear image he could see. “What language are you speaking? I only know Common and a bit of Dunmeris I'm afraid sir. Do you speak dunmeris? Ju'rohn, serjo.”

The figure gave a dark chuckle, a gloved hand coming to rest on Nammu's head. “ Drem Yol Lok, mal fahliil .”

Under the warm weight of man's hand, Nammu gave a hopeful smile. Finally, he had found a friend.

Over the next year, Nammu would continue to occasionally see the figure in his dreams. While he could not understand the man, nor could the man understand him, this did not stop him from trying to hold a conversation. So pleased was he to finally have someone to talk to after being so alone for so long, Nammu would happily chatter away at the man for hours while his body slept. While remaining otherwise aloof, the robed figure certainly didn't seem to mind the chatter, and privately Nammu wondered if the man had been just as lonely.

The aloofness would rather abruptly come to an end some time later however. One evening near to his sixteenth or seventeenth winter, after yet another unsuccessful journey into Raven Rock, Nammu got so heated during the retelling of his day that he began spitting sparks as he angrily paced about.

“That stupid Drovas, doesn't matter how many times I tell that fetcher to leave me alone, he just won't listen. I didn't even bite him that hard this time-”

A gloved hand suddenly latched onto his jaw, cutting him off as his face was turned sharply to face the man who was now right in front of him.

“ Nis kos…Dovahkiin, ” the man breathed, thumb coming up to gently trace under Nammu's eye. His hand was shaking. “ This changes things. ”

“Uh, changes what? Wait, how long have you been able to speak Common?!”

And indeed things did change. Nammu's dreams were spent now not in idle chatter, but rather intense language lessons. The man, who now insisted on being called Onikaan-in - teacher (not that Nammu had ever learnt his true name) had apparently slowly been learning the Common Tongue from all of Nammu's visits. He was very insistent that Nammu should now return the favour and learn to speak his language. Very, very insistent.

Hours upon hours were spent repeating words over and over until he could pronounce them perfectly. Sometimes Onikaan-in refused to speak to him at all unless he could ask his questions in the correct language. Nammu had taken to keeping a notebook of all the words he could remember to practice during the day- though this was made somewhat difficult as the man would only teach him verbally. There were no books to learn from, nothing written down for him to copy or refer to.

“How come you never bring any books to our lessons?”

He got a disapproving look for the use of common (or at least it felt that way, the man never took off his mask), but apparently his teacher was feeling generous enough to let it slide for today. “Tell me, what do you see when you are here? What does the room we are in look like?”

Nammu looked around in confusion, “We're not in a room, it's just you and me here. I don't see anything else, just…green fog?”

“Exactly. you cannot see anything but me. I, on the other hand, can see the room we are in perfectly well. It is you that I cannot see clearly, as though I am looking at you through a dark curtain. I can only see a general shape, enough to know that you are an elf, and a rather short one at that.” Ignoring Nammu's annoyed “Hey!”, he continued on, hand coming up to caress Nammu's face, just under his eye. “Except for your eyes… ever since that day, I have been able to see those.”

“Huh, weird. Why do you think that is? Why can I see you, but you can't see me?”

The man shrugged, “ It is possibly a simple quirk of our connection. Although I suspect it has something to do with my current location- I am not in Nirn at present. ”

Nammu's ears perked at this new information. He knew so little of this man, despite speaking to each other for a few years now. The masked figure had been rather reticent about sharing details of himself, deftly avoiding any questions Nammu had thought to ask. “Not in Nirn? Where are you then?”

“ I cannot say too much, He may be listening after all. But – huzrah faal Fahluaan do Jul. ”

His dreams were not the only thing that changed during this time. Around the same time Onikaan-in began teaching him, there had been reports of increased activity around the old temple ruins up near the mountains. A new cult had apparently taken up residence of the place. This wouldn't normally affect Nammu - he didn't like to travel that far up north anyway - if it wasn't for the rumors that they were searching for somebody. A young dunmer, a loner, said to be able to speak in strange tongues.

They were searching for Nammu.

The townspeople of Raven Rock, being a lovely kind people, were of course all too happy to point the masked cultists in Nammu's direction. Which meant he now had to spend his days constantly on the move, trying to stay ahead of the townspeople, Neloth and the cultists. He was so exhausted from the constant running and hiding that more and more often, Nammu was falling into a deep, dreamless sleep at night. No dreams, no conversations with the masked figure.

“ Who are these people searching for you? ”

“I don't know. All I know is that they’re part of a cult, and they all wear these creepy masks.”

The figure seemed alarmed by this, quickly hurrying forward to grip onto Nammu tightly, ignoring his hiss of pain. “ Masks? What do they look like? ”

“Ow, I don't know, I've never been close enough to look. But, from a distance… they look a bit like yours.”

Really, it was only a matter of time before it all fell apart.

Nammu had been stupid, venturing so close to the town. But he had been so hungry, and he hadn't seen any cultists since he'd ran away from the last lot up near White Ridge. He thought it would be worth the risk. Now he found himself squeezed underneath the floorboards of the abandoned shack, holding his breath as the cultist crouched down. The bone-white mask peered at him from the entrance of his hiding place. 

“Are you the one they call no-name?”

The cultists had dragged him almost all the way to the temple before he finally managed to give them the slip. Desperate, not knowing where else he could turn, Nammu took the only real option left to him. The last place anyone who knew him would expect to willingly find him.

He went to Neloth.

But not before he made a last attempt to contact his dream companion.

“Onikaan-in! The cultists, they found me! I managed to get away, but I'm going to have to hide away somewhere to wait for the search to die down. I'll let you know once I've made it there.”

“ Dovahkiin, wait, what do you mean they found you? Where are you going? ”

“Sorry, no time! I only took a quick nap to try and speak to you, but I've gotta get going if I'm going to make it before the cultists catch up. Speak to you soon!”

What Nammu had not accounted for however, was that Tel Mithryn would be so heavily warded against outside magics. To preserve the integrity of his research, Master Neloth csaid. It would in fact be several years before Nammu would be able to speak to his Onikaan-in again.

Little did he know that when he did finally manage to make contact again, the man he would meet would not be the one he remembered.

“Who dares enter? Another dragonborn? It does not matter, I do not want you here. Get out.”

“Hello? It's me, I'm sorry it took so long-”

“ GET OUT! BO GUT! Leave, you are not wanted here! If you come back I will kill you, you and any other dragonborn the gods see fit to mock me with. Go! ”

Scared, confused, and with very few options left, Nammu had fled. Fled Neloth, the cultists, the townspeople of Raven Rock…  and the robed figure, now a stranger once more. He fled from everyone who had ever sought to hurt him, leaving the island of Solstheim for good. In Skyrim, the dreams seemed to stop again, and he started to hope that he could finally make a life for himself in a place where nobody knew him or his past.

Until now, that is.

Inigo leant back in his chair, rubbing his chin in deep thought. The inn was quiet now, the patrons long gone home or passed out around the hearth. At the bar, Hulda was wiping down the counter, humming softly to herself.

Nammu stared down at his hand, picking at his nails as he waited for Inigo's thoughts. While it had not been an easy story to tell, being able to share it with someone finally felt like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He felt almost dizzy with relief.

Though that could also be the exhaustion. By vivec, when was the last time he had slept?

Inigo hummed, drawing Nammu away from his thoughts. “Well, I can certainly see why you wouldn't want to go back. But my friend, it has been, what, fifteen years since you left Solstheim? I doubt anyone over there would remember you from then. And even if they did, you have changed a lot. You’re bigger than the skinny runt I met back then, and you've got those badass looking tattoos.” Nammu laughed at the Khajiit's theatrics. “Just use a fake name and they'll have no idea who you are! Don't you want to find out what is going on over there?”

“I do,” he agreed. He did hate unanswered questions after all, and these were questions that had been festering for long enough. But– “there's something else though that is worrying me about going back. Something I didn't mention before.” 

Inigo tilted his head to the side, “Well? What is it my friend?”

“I didn't realise it until I left, probably because at the time I didn't know any different. But when I got to Skyrim, I noticed I couldn't feel it anymore.” Here he paused, unsure. It might make him seem mad, saying it out loud, but he had already shared this much…

“While I was in Solstheim, after I had the first dream, I always had this feeling…like I was being watched. I don't know by what, but whatever it was felt old and powerful. I'm worried if I go back… whatever it was will be able to see me again.”

Chapter Text

The water-swollen deck of the Northern Maiden creaked beneath his feet as Nammu stepped up to the railing. Massa and Secunda were reflecting brightly against the dark waves, sparks of light being thrown up as if he was surrounded by silver fire, rather than leagues of ocean. From his pocket, he drew a sheaf of parchment; two letters, both arriving just as they were preparing to leave Windhelm. The paper was well-creased and worn smooth from trailing fingers and frequent reopenings.

The first, a letter from Auryen. Nammu had written him a quick note shortly after they had decided to travel to Solstheim, both to let him know where he was going as well as make some gentle inquiries on whether Auryen had ever come across mention of a dragonborn named Miraak. He had received back the expected list of artifacts Auryen wanted him to look into, but disappointingly little information on the latter:

I'm sorry to say I have not come across any mention of a ‘Miraak’ in any of the literature on dragonborn– of which there is frustratingly little! There are however several dragon priest crypts on Solstheim, maybe you could look for more information there? It is possible that maybe someone has simply adopted the title to garner your interest?

Nammu actually hadn't considered that. He didn't know why, but something within him said that this Miraak was the real deal. His…inner dragon, or whatever it was, recognised its own kind. Like for like.

Auryen had given him somewhere to start looking however, if they didn't have any luck in Raven Rock.

The other letter was, surprisingly, from the Greybeards. Nammu had briefly spoken to Arngeir about setting up a correspondence before he'd left High Hrothgar, but he hadn't actually expected to receive any letters from them. It made sense however, once he actually read the contents;

Dovahkiin,

We have recently been visited by a group of masked individuals– High Hrothgar has never seen so many visitors in a single age. They claimed to be looking for you, or rather, for the dragonborn. Fear not, they found themselves swiftly and firmly turned away, but be wary Dovahkiin. Their intentions seem dark.

Also, if your travels were to bring you back this way, please consider paying us a visit. Our leader, Paarthurnax, would very much like to speak to you.

Drem wundun, Dovahkiin.

Masked men with dark intentions– it could only be the cultists. That they would go to High Hrothgar in search of him was concerning; they were clearly aware of his movements, though thankfully they were still several steps behind. For now.

Although, he mused, they could have also just been following up on the cultists he killed back in Ivarstead. Maybe that was it. Hopefully.

Putting the letters away once more, Nammu looked up at the night sky. There was no Aurora tonight, much to his disappointment. The brilliant blues and greens of the Aurora had always granted him peace, and he had hoped to get a final glimpse before they reached Solstheim. The air there was too thick and choked with ash, and as such there were few places it could be seen.

Nammu inhaled deeply, drawing in a faint hint of ash on the breeze, tickling his nose and sticking to his throat. They were drawing closer to the island, and would probably even be there by dawn. Settling in for a long night, Nammu leaned against the railing and looked towards the East, ready to catch the first glimpse of their destination.

His birthplace. The dark island of his nightmares.

Solstheim

--------------------

“I don't recognise you outlander, so I'll assume this is your first time to Raven Rock. State your name and intentions here.”

Nammu breathed a sigh of relief, ignoring Inigo's smug look from beside him. “Fedris Sadri, of Skyrim. I'm looking for someone… have you heard of anyone named Miraak?”

The dunmer snorted; “Hah! Another Sadri, name's as common as ash. But, Miraak you say…” Here, the dunmer's previously sharp gaze turned hazy and confused. Nammu leant forward in interest, curious at this sudden change in demeanor. “No…I can't say I have. It sounds familiar though…” 

The dunmer shook himself, gaze sharpening once more. “I'll add your name to the logs. I don't want to see any funny business while you are here, this place is under the rule of Morrowind, not Skyrim. The laws are different, and I won't tolerate some upstart outlander ruining the peace here–”

Nammu tuned out the rest, mind instead turning over the man's reaction to his question. That was interesting. When he asked about Miraak, his demeanor changed entirely. What could create that sort of reaction… a spell perhaps? There might be more to this Miraak than he'd thought, if he could bewitch people like that. Looks like he would have to speak to the other residents to be sure.

Talking to the people of Raven Rock. Great. His younger self would probably kick him in the shin for even entertaining the thought.

He really had been a short tempered little creature back then…

The official (Adil? Adan? Something like that) had turned away to speak to the captain, apparently having realised Nammu wasn't paying him any attention. Free from the interrogation, Nammu and Inigo finally made their way into the village proper. It hadn't changed much during his absence; there were still the same grey walls, grey bug-like buildings, grey cobblestone road. He had forgotten just how grey everything was. Anything that might once have been brightly coloured– banners, shop signs, plants– had long since been covered in a fine film of ash. Coughing, overwhelmed by the smell and feel of it in his lungs, Nammu pulled his scarf up to cover his lower face. 

It seemed his tolerance for the ash was something that had changed.

“So this is Raven Rock. It's…quaint?”

Nammu snorted, “‘You can say it, I won't be offended. It's an ash-ridden shithole.”

“Your words, not mine.” Inigo sneezed, stirring up the ash that had started to settle in his fur. He accepted the cloth Nammu handed to him, tying it around his lower face with as much dignity as he could muster while ignoring his friend's snickering. “So, where shall we start? Any old acquaintances that might be able to give us a lead?”

“None of those here. I say we just ask as many people as we can before it gets too dark, then we can rent a room before heading off to the old temple ruins in the morning.” While talking, Nammu looked around the small village square, trying to decide where to start. His eyes landed on a gruff-looking orc, stomping around closely followed by a hulking dark elf in armour. In a sea of dunmer, the orsimer stood out like a sore thumb. “I think I might know a good place to start…”

And what an illuminating conversation it was. Mogrul, a loan shark he had learnt, had the same addled reaction to hearing Miraak's name as the man on the docks. He did however point them in the direction of the old temple site, which was more information than they managed to get out of anyone else in the village. While everyone claimed the name felt familiar, no-one was able to answer where they had heard it or who it belonged to.

Pleased to have at least confirmed his theory that the cultists had come from the old abandoned temple, Nammu and Inigo decided to call it a night. They were unlikely to learn anything more from the residents at this time, and Nammu felt wary of pushing his luck too much. No one recognised him currently, but who knew when that would change.

Laying on his bed in The Retching Netch, Nammu had to admit that the day had gone better than he thought it would. He had managed to have a civil conversation with several of the townsfolk, and he had yet to be chased out of the town by an angry mob. On all counts, the day had been a roaring success. Now if only Inigo would stop muttering in his sleep, he might be able to get some rest…

Wait. Inigo didn't talk in his sleep. Since quitting skooma, the khajiit had always slept too lightly for such sleep habits.

“Here in the shrine…that they have forgotten…”

Hearing a rustling outside their room, Nammu left his bed and crept over to the door to peek through the keyhole. He could see a dark shape moving about, shuffling somewhat clumsily towards the exit. As one passed under the lantern hanging above the stairway out of the inn, their features suddenly became clear; it was the innkeeper, Geldis. The man was still dressed in his sleep clothes, eyes half-lidded and jaw slack, as though he was still sleeping. His mouth was moving slightly however, and as he strained his ears Nammu could just about make out his mumbling. The same words that he could still hear his friend repeating behind him.

“Here do we toil…that we might remember…”

He fought down a shudder. The sleepwalking, the chanting, coupled with the strange conversations they had had that day… it was all very eerie. There was certainly something strange going on in Raven Rock. And then there was the chant itself…he could have sworn he had heard it somewhere before.

Steeling his nerves, Nammu pushed the door open carefully, mindful of the creaking hinges. Padding along gently, feet bare, he followed the path the innkeeper had taken while keeping a safe distance in case the man were to suddenly turn and see him following. Not that Nammu thought it was likely to happen; from the glimpse he had gotten, whatever enchantment the man was under kept the man deeply asleep even as his body took him out into the chilly night air.

Following Geldis outside, Nammu could see the shambling figures of the other residents, Dreyla, Fethis, even the blacksmith Glover Mallory, all shuffling along like draugr in the same direction. The muttering was louder out here, their voices lifting together in an eerie chant up into the sky which was glowing in a hauntingly familiar shade of sickly green.

Gut sinking in dismay as he stared up at the swirling green lights that had replaced the usual ash-grey, Nammu could now place where he had heard the chant before; in that first dream, months ago. It was the chant the man had been invoking as he wove that dark spell, before Nammu's appearance had interrupted.

This must be what the spell was for– bewitching the residents of Raven Rock.

How far did it go, he wondered. Did it just ensnare the villagers here, or did the spell affect the whole island? Were the Reavers and the Skaal affected too? How was it able to ensnare Inigo even though he hadn't been on Solstheim when the spell was cast? If he had fallen asleep, Nammu was almost certain he would have been affected too, so just setting foot on Solstheim was clearly enough to be caught in the effects.

Nammu had never seen magic like this before. How powerful was this man, to be able to bewitch possibly a whole island of people with a single spell? Not to mention whatever dream magic it was that tied him and Nammu together.

…if they were both Dragonborn as Nammu suspected, would he too be this powerful in time?

Nammu had so many questions, but as long as he stood here paralysed he wasn't getting any answers, so he continued following the villagers as they shuffled out the northern gate and all the way along the road to the Earth Stone. Once there, he watched as one by one they all picked up hammers and chisels from a pile that had apparently been left there and started to work on the Stone, chanting as they worked.

“By night we reclaim…what by day was stolen…”

Settling on a section of broken fence, Nammu watched as the townspeople continued to work on the Stone well into the early hours of the morning. While he was curious as to what they were carving into the stone, he didn't dare get too close in fear of waking somebody, unsure of what the effect of breaking such a spell could be. Knowing his luck, nothing good. Observing from a distance like this however did allow him to learn the rest of the chant, which they all chanted in a continuous loop as they worked. Nammu had written it down into the ash beside his feet, sorely missing the notebook he'd left in his pack back in the inn.

Here in his shrine

That they have forgotten

Here do we toil

That we might remember

By night we reclaim

What by day was stolen

Far from ourselves

He grows ever near to us

Our eyes once were blinded

Now through him do we see

Our hands once were idle

Now through them does he speak

And when the world shall listen

And when the world shall see

And when the world remembers

That world shall cease to be

It was all very creepy, as one would expect from a dark and powerful mind-controlling spell. While the chant never gave a name to this mysterious ‘He’, Nammu would bet his last septim he could guess who it was.

Just as he was considering going back to the inn to check on Inigo, Nammu was startled from his thoughts when, as one, all the townsfolk straightened up and dropped their tools. Now eerily silent but seeming no closer to waking, they all started to make their way back towards their homes, just in time to wake up completely unaware that they had spent the night away from their beds. Still somewhat baffled (and a little creeped out) by the strange turn of the evening, Nammu followed suit and returned to the inn. Relieved to see Inigo still resting in his own bed, now silent, Nammu retrieved his book from his pack determined to record everything he had seen and heard that evening. He had a creeping suspicion that this was just the beginning of whatever strange event was taking place on Solstheim, and while he held no fondness for the place, he was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

--------------------

The bitter icy wind bit at his cheeks as Nammu and Inigo traveled up the path that led to the Temple of Miraak. The snowstorm had started shortly after they had left Raven Rock, the ash and snow being kicked up by the wind obscuring their vision. Thankfully Nammu's memory of the route had remained accurate, and they reached the base of the hill the temple rested on by the early afternoon.

Pulling his scarf up further to cover his frozen ears, Nammu grumbled to himself as they continued up the path. While the lack of visibility hadn't proven to be too much of an issue, the cold he could have done without. 

Just as he took his next step however, his boot slipped on the suddenly slick surface beneath, sliding clean out from under him– “Ah!” He fell hard onto his knees, managing to catch himself with his hands before he fell onto his face. 

Great, now his hands were cold.

“My friend, are you okay?” Inigo rushed over, pulling him up by the arm and giving him a quick once over. Pulling the scarf up once more to cover his blushing cheeks, Nammu cleared his throat.

“I'm fine, Inigo, thanks.”

“What did you trip on? It is unlike you to fall, unless you were indulging at the bar while I was asleep?”

Ignoring the last comment, Nammu turned back to the path. Where he had tripped the snow had been kicked up, revealing the cause of his fall. Gleaming an off-white colour, easily mistaken for the snow surrounding it, lay a bone. A rather large bone.

Nammu could only think of a few beasts that would leave a skeleton so large, and fewer still that could be found on Solstheim.

Crouching down, he brushed away the snow and debris to uncover more of the skeleton. A very large radial bone, leading up to clawed knuckles and extended metacarpals… it was as he suspected. Standing back up granted a better look at what Nammu had suspected he had found– a dragon skeleton. And a quick glance up at the path leading up to the temple revealed more telling shapes hidden under the snow. 

The route was littered with the remains of dragons.

Nammu shivered, but this time not from the cold. What had happened here to lead to the deaths of so many dragons? He had only fought two, and had barely scraped through both times. Whatever, or whomever, had killed these had to be immensely powerful to be able to fell such a high number of dragons.

“Is that a dragon?!”

Inigo's exclamation brought Nammu back out from his thoughts. That's right, they had a mystery to solve– finding out what had happened to the dragons here could wait. If he was lucky (or perhaps, unlucky) whatever they found at the temple could also be the answer to why so many dragons had died outside of it.

“It is, and it's not the only one. Come, we shouldn't linger here– the feeling of this place gives me the creeps. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can leave and head back to Skyrim.”

“Feeling? What feeling, my friend? I only sense the cold.”

“You mean you don't feel that?” Nammu had been trying to ignore the steadily growing sense of foreboding since they had left the bounds of Raven Rock. The back of his neck prickled constantly, and he had often found himself glancing behind him, looking for the eyes he could sense watching him. But each time he looked back, he was met with nothing. The sense of being watched, stalked even, set his teeth on edge. Added to the already stressful experience of being back on Solstheim, Nammu had a white-knuckled grip on what was left of his composure.

“...don't worry about it. The temple is just up here, let's go.”

And so they continued on, taking extra care as they picked their way around the remains littering the path, until they finally came upon the temple. What had once been the ruined remains of a temple, a few crumbled pillars and broken walls, had transformed dramatically since Nammu had last seen it; scaffolding had been erected against the dark stone walls, and he could see workers scuttling around the structure, presumably under thrall as they chanted the same mantra as the townsfolk back in Raven Rock.

“Look at that! Very impressive, lots of tall spires. Think this Miraak fellow might be compensating for something? Hehehe~”

Nammu ignored Inigo's snickering, instead staring up at the temple, head tilted in thought. It was rather impressive, but something about the structure struck him as…odd. The architecture was unlike any of the other crypts or barrows scattered around Solstheim, or even Skyrim. In fact, it didn't resemble any of the ruins he had come across before: not the gleaming metal and pipework of dwarven structures, the skulls and fur of the Forsworn, or even the chitinous grey of Dunmer buildings. The dark stonework and circular shape was closest to the ancient Nord tombs, but the high towers and arches were unusual– too spindly and packed too close together to be a typical Nord temple. The most unusual part though was the strange webbing that arched over the whole structure. It gave the whole temple a rather otherworldly appearance, which coupled with the increased feelings of dread and foreboding that hung over the place like a miasma, Nammu frankly really did not like. 

“...I really don't want to go in there.” Nammu muttered, squinting up at the temple in distrust. He was seriously starting to reconsider his previous determination to get to the bottom of this whole Miraak mystery. If Miraak wanted to be dragonborn so badly, maybe he could be the one to deal with Alduin, and Nammu could go back to the museum and live out his life as a shut-in scholar.

Inigo turned to look at him, face pinched with concern. Just as he opened his mouth to say something however, they were both startled by a loud shout from within the temple;

“Ysra, can you hear me? Ysra? You must leave this place!”

Nammu and Inigo glanced at each other before scurrying up the ramp to the temple. Down in the centre near the Tree Stone stood a Nord woman in full armour, trying with no avail to wake one of the thralls working there. At the sound of their footsteps however she turned away to regard the pair with suspicion.

“Who are you? Why are you here, what brings you to this place?” she demanded, hand coming to rest on the pommel of the sword at her hip.

Nammu raised both hands, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. “There have been some strange goings on in Raven Rock, and our investigations into the matter have led us here. Who are you? You're one of the Skaal, are you not?”

Still squinting in suspicion, the woman slowly lowered her hand from her sword, seemingly deciding that they were no threat to her. “Indeed, I am Frea of the Skaal. I am here to either free my people, or avenge them.”

“Do you know what it is that has enthralled them?”

“I am unsure. My father Storn, the shaman of our village, thinks that Miraak has returned to Solstheim, but such a thing is impossible.”

Nammu and Inigo shared a look. Yet another mention of Miraak, but this time without the confusion that had so afflicted everyone they had met so far. This Frea could be a valuable source of information.

“This Miraak tried to have me killed, sent some cultists to find me in Skyrim. It's what brought us over to the island in the first place.”

“He sent people as far as Skyrim? Truly? Then you and I both have cause to see what lies in the temple below. Come, let us find the entrance to th–”

A bolt of lightning crackled past, just missing Frea's head as she had begun to turn during their conversation. A couple of cultists flooded out from a previously hidden passage sunk into the floor, the scent of ozone strong as lightning burst from their hands. Nammu and Inigo scrambled to grab their weapons, but just as they made to dive into the fray Frea let out an almighty roar, stabbing the first cultist deep in the guts before spinning on one foot to lop the head off the other in one smooth motion.

The head fell to the ground with a heavy thunk. The pair of adventurers could do little more than stare in frozen shock as Frea let out a displeased grunt, flicking blood off of her steel greatsword before sheathing it once more. At their stunned looks, she gave a cheeky grin; “Shall we be off?”

Inigo let out an impressed whistle, “Only if you're the one leading, scary new friend.”

They descended into the Temple. The first few chambers held little of interest beside a bit of loot and a few draugr, which between the three of them were no issue to dispatch. As they continued further, however, the number of traps they came across continued to increase.

“Seems a tricky fellow this Miraak, laying all these traps.” Inigo remarked, brushing off the soot from yet another fire trap.

“Miraak was trying to take power here, and protect himself in the process,” Frea replied, smoothly stepping over a poorly hidden pressure plate.

“Take power from who…the dragons?” Nammu muttered to himself. He had been largely silent until now, still deeply unsettled by the temple and the feeling that he was being watched, which had only increased tenfold since entering the temple. Frea and Inigo seemed oblivious to the sensation, so he kept quiet to avoid scaring them unnecessarily, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible lay further into the temple.

“We do not know what it was that caused Miraak to turn against his masters, but either way his path seemed to have been a cruel one. We may learn more about his story the deeper we go. You ready?” She directed this question at Nammu, regarding him with a look of concern. It seems he had not been as adept at hiding his discomfort as he'd thought.

Letting out a tense breath, Nammu adjusted his grip on his sword before granting her a short nod. “Lead on.”

And so on and on they went. Deeper and deeper into the Temple, cutting down draugr and cultists alike. It seemed never ending, and if it were not for the traps getting deadlier and the enemies more frequent, Nammu would have thought they were walking in circles. They passed worn murals and scattered books that told fragments of Miraak's rise to power, but nothing definitive. Most concerning was the smashed fragments of a Dragon Claw key laying before an open puzzle door that looked to have been broken down by a great force.

Finally, after a hair-raising fight against a more senior cult leader, they entered the Inner Sanctum.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, the sense of wrongness Nammu had been battling reached new dizzying heights. His stomach dropped as though he had fallen from a cliff, his skin crawled as he broke out in a cold sweat. The very air here felt thick with the stench of rot and dark magic, thick and syrupy in his lungs as he struggled to draw breath. His companions looked at him in concern when he choked on his first breath, but even they were no longer immune to the aura of the temple. Inigo's ears kept twitching back and forth, as though trying to catch the whispers that skirted at the edge of their hearing, and Frea adjusted her grip on her sword which she now kept drawn at her side.

Despite every nerve in his body screaming at him to turn back, Nammu was the first to press onwards deeper into the sanctum. He strode onwards, shoulders squared and teeth gritted against each new horror they came across; dragon skeletons hung like trophies, creepy fish statues and more of the strange web-like architecture they had seen outside. And still he marched, gaze fixed ahead and palms stinging with the strength of the magic he was using to cut down the draugr in his path, barely even stopping to pick up a new Word from the Wall they passed until finally, finally they reached what seemed to be the heart of the temple.

It was a circular room, tall but narrow, with the same arched moulding they had seen throughout the temple. It was largely empty, and would have been a rather anticlimactic end to their journey, if not for the single black book resting on a plinth in the centre of the room.

He recognised that book. 

Thick, bound in dark leather embossed with an eldritch image, it would appear like any other book if it were not for the sense of dark intent emanating from it.

One of the Black Books.

Nammu took a step back, not wanting to get any closer. He made a noise of dissent as Frea and Inigo passed him to get a better look, reaching out to hold them back but just missing.

“This book…it seems wrong somehow. Both here and yet not. It may be what we were seeking.” Frea commented, eyeing the Book contemplatively. After a moment, she seemed to come to a decision. “I think one of us should read it.”

“What? No!” Nammu exclaimed. “You yourself just said there's something wrong with it, and now you want to just crack it open? No, we should just leave and seek our answers elsewhere, leave the book to rot here in this cursed place.”

“After the time it took us to get here? It seems a waste of time, time I cannot afford. My people need help now, and the answers may lie in this book.”

“It does seem a shame to come all this way to then back out at the last minute,” Inigo chipped in, “I know this whole place has been bothering you, so one of us can just read it. I promise to drop it straight away if the book starts spitting fire.”

“No!” Nammu hissed, ears pinning back in agitation, “none of us should read it! Don't you see– can't you feel it, that book is nothing but evil! Nothing good can come from reading it. We should just leave it here, or better yet take it with us and throw it off the nearest cliff.”

“My friend, calm yourself,” Inigo hushed, arms stretched out in a placating gesture. “Take a moment please and explain. What is it about this book that is upsetting you so? You have handled dangerous artifacts before, I do not understand what is so different this time.”

Taking a deep breath, the dunmer took a moment to try and steady himself. Inigo watched on, face creased in concern, and Nammu started to feel the prickle of embarrassment at his freak out. The least he could do was try to explain himself.

“I've seen one of these before. There was this mage I worked for, he was obsessed with finding them, convinced they held great secrets and esoteric knowledge. He set me to scouring history texts for mention of them. I couldn't find much, nothing about what they're for and where they come from, but what I did find was that wherever these things crop up, trouble follows. Even discounting that, the one I saw before… it was nothing like this one. That horrible, dark, watchful feeling? It's coming from the book, I know it. Please, please don't read it, don't give it what it wants!”

“Okay, okay,” Inigo soothed, moving in to take hold of Nammu's shoulders. It was only then that Nammu realised he was shaking. “We get it, it's an evil book. No one is going to force you to read it. But Frea and I, we don't get the same feeling from the book as you do, so hopefully it won't hurt us to take a look.”

“He is right, I feel nothing like you've described. I'm going to take a look, the fate of my people depends on it. Stay back.” And with that Frea reached out to grab the book.

Or at least, she tried.

As her hand came within an inch of touching the leather-bound cover, it was flung back by some invisible force. Blinking in surprise, Frea tried again only to encounter the same issue; no matter how much she tried, she could come no closer than a scant few centimetres away from touching the book. Teeth bared, free hand wrapped around her wrist in support, she strained relentlessly against the invisible barrier for an impressive few minutes, before finally relenting with a frustrated shout.

Panting heavily, forehead damp with sweat, she took a reluctant step back. “It is no use,” she panted, “the cursed book is protected by some magic I’ve never seen before. It will not let me read it.”

“Interesting…perhaps I should try,” Inigo said, before stepping forward to attempt to touch the book. Just like with Frea however, there was a force stopping him before he could make contact. “I think you may be right my friend, not only should this book not be read, it would appear to agree with us!”

“You would think it would be the other way around,” Nammu agreed tentatively. The strangling fear that had gripped him at seeing his companions attempt to read the book had abated somewhat as their efforts proved fruitless.

Perhaps the books are not as dangerous as he feared… maybe a little peek couldn't hurt?

Just a quick look. Frea might be right after all, the book could contain all the answers he had been looking for…

He would probably just be flung back like the others anyway, getting just a little closer should be fine…

Nammu shuffled forward an inch, only a short metre away from the plinth now.

Just a little more… a little closer…

Come closer…

Closer…

Trapped in a trance, Nammu didn't notice that he'd come close enough to rest a hand on the cover until it was too late. 

As soon as he made contact, the book flipped open of its own accord. Dark, oily tentacles burst from the pages and wrapped around Nammu in a tight hold. His companion's cries of alarm ringing in his ears, Nammu had just enough time to gasp a breath before he was yanked headfirst into the book, the cover slamming shut behind him until all he knew was darkness.

Chapter Text

He barely caught a glimpse of tall eldritch spires before he fell to his knees, electricity coursing through his body. He shuddered through the effects of the spell, jaw clenched, metallic taste bursting across his tongue.

“Who are you to dare set foot here? Ahh…I should have known. So we finally meet face-to-face, Dragonborn.”

Before him, tall and imposing, stood an all too familiar figure. After so many years, he finally had a name for the figure that had haunted him for years. Once a mentor, now turned enemy. 

Miraak.

Behind that impassive golden mask, glowing blue-green eyes looked him up and down appraisingly. “So you are the newest Dragonborn to walk Nirn. How…gratifying, to be able to see and speak to you at last. No desks to hide under this time.” Seeing Nammu's embarrassed flush, he chuckled darkly. “I do not suppose I could have a name to go with the face?”

Struck mute, cheeks still burning, Nammu shook his head.

“A pity. It matters not, I suppose. I see you have done little but kill a mere handful of dragons. Just what have you been doing all this time?” A disappointed tut, “You understand nothing of what a true dragonborn is capable of. Allow me to enlighten you.”

Mul Qah Diiv!

At his Shout, Miraak's form was wreathed in brilliant colourful lights, swirling and dancing around him before solidifying over his body to form armour. His head was mantled with great arcing horns, and a solid spiky chest plate reminiscent of a dragon's armoured belly settled over him. Miraak spread his arms, with all the grandiosity of a dragon spreading its wings, further highlighting the glittering scales that now overlaid them.

It was… glorious. Such power and majesty, granted with a Shout… The serpent within him stirred with jealousy. A shout such as that, that could grant him an imago of his inner soul, that his mortal body denied him…

He wanted it.

Recognising the awe and hunger in his eyes, Miraak hummed in pleasure; “Yes, you see now Dovahkiin, the power one such as us could possess. You however… nivahriin dovahkiin, I fear such power may be beyond you. From what I have seen, you lack a certain… inner fire and ambition one would expect to see in our kind. Sahlo sil.”

At this disdainful assessment, presented so casually that Nammu, who had been tentatively testing his weight on trembling limbs, snapped upright onto his knees. The nerve– the audacity of this man, who knew next to nothing about what he had been through after Miraak essentially abandoned him.

Weak and lacking fire was he?

“From where I am, it rather looks like you might be the weak one. All this power, yet you can't get out of a book? 

"Impudent child," Miraak hissed, visibly bristling, "you speak of matters beyond your knowledge. You think being Dragonborn entitles you to speak to me this way, that we are equal? You are nothing. I will not tolerate your intrusions of this realm any longer. Stay out of my way. Solstheim is mine, and soon my temple will be finished and I can return home. Pray you are not there when I do so."

He turned and began to walk away, not even sparing Nammu a parting glance as he commanded, "Send him back to where he came from. He can await my arrival with the rest of Tamriel."

The two strange tentacled creatures that had been hovering at Miraak's side moved forward, and with their combined blast of magic Nammu found his consciousness thrown back out of the book.

--------------------

He came back to himself with a heave, sputtering out the remnants of black ink that had been left clogging his lungs. Nammu could just about register Frea and Inigo frantically patting him down for injury, their voices an unintelligible jumble as he continued to hack and cough.

Gross and pathetic. Some mighty dragonborn you are, trembling like a babe on the floor.

As the heaving stopped, he knew he needed to respond, to reassure them that he was fine.

But he couldn't. Everything just seemed…so far away. Non-urgent. Unreal. A grey haze had settled over everything, dulling his senses to all but Miraak's words whispering in an undending loop;

Nothing.

Nothing.

You are Nothing.

He was peripherally aware of the fact he must have eventually said or done something to reassure his companions, as he found himself following them out of the temple and back into the freezing wilderness towards the Skaal camp. They were going to speak to someone- the shaman? He wasn't entirely sure, letting Frea and Inigo take the lead in speaking as he hung back, numb to everything but the growing rage building inside him.

Nothing… how dare he?

He was used to being seen as a nobody; he had been named by the very concept, grown up surrounded by people who took every opportunity to impress upon him just how unimportant and unwanted he was. He'd heard it so often, from so many people, that Nammu had thought he'd long grown immune to it. That it didn't bother him- not as much, anyway.

But to hear it from the lips of this man - his mentor, his onikaan-in, the one person with their soul the same shape as his- to hear it from the first person to ever see him as a person.

It hurt. It hurt so much, he felt as if his lungs would collapse under the crushing weight of it, a boulder straining against his ribs, bones creaking. He would have collapsed under the weight, if it were not for the growing anger, boiling low in his stomach. Something serpentine coiled there, refusing to allow him to fall, because

How

Dare

He?!

Miraak could not be allowed to do this. He did not get to swan into Nammu's life, teach him, acknowledge him as a kindred spirit, only to then reject him and ignore him for years. Then he sends someone to kill him, all but dragging him to this gods-forsaken island to investigate, to then has the gall to call him nothing? And he thinks Nammu is going to stand back and allow him to return to Nirn, a plan he would have happily helped him with years ago?

No.

Nammu was going to stop him; he would cleanse these stones, free the people that had already been ensnared by Miraak's dream magic, then leave and never think about him again. Miraak could stay and rot in the prison he had trapped himself in, and if he ever attempted to free himself again Nammu would have moved on. He will work with Delphine to sort out this dragonborn stuff, and he will never waste another thought on Miraak again.

Feeling resolved, Nammu went to join the others in discussing the next steps with Storn. He knew the path forward now, and he was determined to wrap up this trip as soon as possible.

(And if he crept away from the others later that night to find a quiet place to sob himself sick… well. That was between him and the trees.)

--------------------

Saering's Watch was one of the rare open-air Nord ruins that lay in the shadow of Frykte Peak. It was also the location of a Word Wall containing a Word of Power that may help with cleansing the Wind Stone, according to Storn. The plan was to go in, kill the dragon that had roosted there, learn the Word, use the dragon's soul to empower it, then go free the Skaal trapped at the stone. A nice, straightforward plan that they were prepared to enact at any moment.

…just as soon as the dragon had finished taking care of the draugr that were swarming the ruins.

"I didn't even know draugr could fight dragons. Seems a bit suicidal," Inigo commented, plucking his bowstring idly as he leant against the rock Nammu was perched on to watch the battle below.

Nammu hummed thoughtfully, collapsing his telescope before putting it back in his bag. "Neither did I, to be honest. I'd thought the draugr served the dragon priests; seems counterintuitive for them to fight the very creature the priests worshipped."

"Perhaps it's been so long they've forgotten what a dragon looks like."

"Maybe. Or they've been dormant so long they've become addled."

"Maybe they just don't like this dragon. Maybe they've got an ancient feud they're trying to settle."

"Maybe if you two stopped spouting nonsense, you's have noticed all the draugr are dead now," Frea interrupted, eyebrow twitching. "You were the ones who insisted on waiting until the draugr were dealt with to move in, so can we please go now? I've still yet to determine if it is cowardice or cunning that stills your hand."

"Draugr are no issue, I just see little point in wasting energy on them that is better spent on the dragon. But you're right; let's go." Nammu drew his sword, and with a quick Shout was at the dragon's side in seconds, stabbing his sword into its wing before it had a chance to take flight. With Inigo providing long-range support with his bow and Frea joining the battle with her great axe, they made quick work of the dragon, and within maybe twenty minutes its soul was rushing towards Nammu.

Brushing of the last flickering embers of blue and orange, Nammu made his way up the stairs to stand before the Word Wall. His eyes were drawn to one of the words, the source of the soft chanting hovering at the edge of his hearing. While he could not read the word, (having never learnt the letters, an endless source of frustration) the dragon soul he had just absorbed imparted the meaning anyway.

Gol - Earth

…Earth? Not a word he'd typically associate with cleansing; he'd expected something along the lines of 'freedom' or 'purity'. Then again, the dragon tongue was a strange one. Some words seemed to have multiple meanings, or only made sense once the one learnt all three words of the Shout. Storn has only known the location of this one, however. He'd have to seek out the other two himself somehow.

Just as Nammu started mentally listing possible locations for the other two Words, he suddenly felt as if he was being watched. Looking around revealed no-one but Frea and Inigo, who were deep in a discussion of Skaal funerary practices (he did not want to know how they'd got onto that topic) and were thus paying him little attention.

There was nobody else around that he could see. Draugr and dragon were dead, no Rielkings were hiding in the cliffs, not even so much as a wolf or rabbit roaming the surrounding wilderness… which was rather odd now that he thought about it.

…it was alarmingly similar to the feeling he'd had in Miraak's temple.

Feeling slightly unnerved, Nammu turned to his companions; "Let's move on. The Wind Stone isn't too far from here, then we can check back in with your father Frea. He may have found some more information for us while we've been away."

Sadly Storn didn't have a lot of news for them, but he was pleased the Wind Stone had been cleansed and the enthralled Skaal had returned to the village.

"This is a step in the right direction. Miraak's hold has been weakened, and by cleansing all the other stones it will be weakened even further. He will find it very difficult to return without them."

Nammu hummed, "Just weakened? Is there no way to stop him completely?"

"Not on this plane I fear. Miraak is not on Nirn, and it would be near impossible to reach him while he remains ensconced away. You say you met him through a black book? I believe the wizard Neloth at Tel Mithryn may know more about them. It may be worth speaking to him- ah," Storn let out a short laugh, "From the look on you face your face, I can only assume you've met Neloth before then?"

"Unfortunately," Nammu grumbled, annoyed. He'd hoped to get through this trip without seeing the man, but it seemed there was no helping it. At least the experiment at Raven Rock had proven successful- as long as the wizard didn't realise it was him, they'd be fine. "We'll deal with the stones first. The longer I can put off dealing with Neloth, the better. He came here looking for information on the books then?"

"He did. He seemed less than impressed with our insights however. I tried to caution him against pursuing the books and the knowledge held therein, but that went down rather poorly. The village was very happy when he left. He was… a trying presence."

The dunmer snorted, "How diplomatically put. Though, I do find it interesting he would come here for answers. You know more than you're telling me, don't you?"

Nammu held Storn's gaze, ignoring Frea's hissing about respect. Storn silenced her with a raised hand, smiling blandly. "You're sharp, Dragonborn, and I won't do you the disrespect of lying to you. Yes, I do know more, however I am not ready to share it with you just yet. He is always listening, and I sense His presence particularly strongly around you. I am not yet strong enough to face Him, and so I ask you to please grant me the courtesy of dropping this for now. Speak to Neloth first- he will have some of the answers you seek."

Rocking back on his heels, Nammu eyed Storn thoughtfully. As much as he was burning with questions, it was true that Storn had been nothing but helpful until now. He was a good leader, well respected by his people, and didn't strike him as the type to go back on his word. So, Nammu acquiesced with a nod, content to leave it be for now. He would be granted answers in time, and it was not worth losing Storn's trust by pressing any further.

Also, he was slightly afraid of Frea, and didn't see her reacting well to him shaking her father by his ankles into the answers fell out.

Storn sighed, slumping slightly as the tension fell from his frame. "Thank you, Dragonborn. If you need anything for your journey, let us know. In the mean time, you are welcome to rest in the Great Hall before heading out."

"Thank you, Shaman. We would be grateful to accept your offer."

--------------------

A green sky, the smell of ink, the rustling of a thousand pages.

He was here again- why couldn't he just have a normal dream for once? Was this part of being dragonborn? Or was this an unfortunate tide over from the connection he had had with Miraak as a boy?

Letting out a short huff, Nammu shut his eyes, determined to ignore his surroundings. Maybe if he fell asleep here, he could leave and sleep peacefully for once…

…only to choke as his next breath was suddenly cut of by a gloved hand wrapping firmly around his throat. His eyes flew open, only to find his view obstructed by another leather-clad hand clasping over his eyes. Nammu struggled, hands tugging fruitlessly at his captors wrists as he kicked and writhed in an attempt to throw off the body now pinning him to the ground. It was like trying to move rock, however, and Nammu soon ran out of air with which to fight, collapsing underneath the hold as he desperately gasped for breath.

Once he'd stopped struggling, the hand around his neck loosened just enough to allow him to breathe, fingers stroking with a thinly veiled threat should he try to get free again. Over the pounding of his heart, he became aware of his captor leaning closer, breath ringing metallically in his ear.

"Mal mey, I thought I told you not to come back here. Are you so simple that you cannot follow simple instructions?"

Still panting, Nammu tried again to tug Miraak's hand away from his face. If they were going to have this conversation, he'd prefer to look him in the eye, let Miraak see the full weight of his displeasure. But Miraak wouldn't budge, fingers squeezing at his throat in warning, and he relented with a huff; "How did you know I was here? I've literally just fallen asleep- you weren't waiting for me like a creep, were you?"

"I always know when you are here. Don't skirt around the question, dovahkiin, why are you here again."

"You think I wanted to come here? Every time I have been here it has been against my will. What, you think I wanted to come here and see your stupid-"

" I thought-" Miraak cut him off with a growl, shaking his neck to silence him- "that you were just a stubbornly dim-witted fool. Golah hinskaal. But now I see that you are a fool of a different kind. What sort of dovahkiin are you, if you cannot maintain control over your own dreams?"

"One that's had to learn everything on his own!" Nammu snarled, "What sort of dragonborn are you to be trapped in a realm you cannot keep me out of?"

Nammu suddenly lunged forward, his sudden burst startling Miraak into losing his hold. They wrestled against each other, snarling and grabbing and kicking up dust and pages from the ground as they fought for control. Nammu had not fought this hard or dirty since he was a child, and despite nearly gaining the upper hand several times, he was no match for Miraak's sheer bulk. He found himself pinned to the ground once more, on his front this time, face ground into the dirt by the other dragonborn's firm grip in his hair.

They were still like that for a moment, silent except for their panting breaths. Nammu squirmed under Miraak's weight pinning his legs, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the rather provocative position he was trapped in: face down, hands held in a firm grip behind his back, Miraak's torso pressed along the length of his body. He froze, trying not to draw attention to the vulnerable pose he was being held in, uncertain whether it was deliberate or not.

Miraak took his sudden stillness as an opportunity to lean even closer. Cool metal touched his ear, cloth hood brushing against the back of Nammu's neck, eliciting a full body shudder as Miraak whispered; "This is your last warning dovahkiin. You will stay out of my way. You shall not interfere. If I catch you here- physically- again, your life shall be forfeit."

Miraak withdrew, weight shifting back onto Nammu's legs. He sighed, almost sounding disappointed, "It didn't have to be this way, dovahkiin. When I first felt your presence, I had almost hoped… but no. You insist on being either avoidant or defiant at every turn."

Nammu twisted his neck, straining against Miraak's grip and just about catching a glimpse of gold metal as he sputtered out, "Wait, you'd hoped…Miraak, what-"

"Sweet dreams, dovahkiin."

Using his grip on his hair, Miraak abruptly slammed his head down into the ground. There was a sharp crack, light bursting across his vision, and Nammu knew no more.

--------------------

He sat up sharply, hands pressing into his sockets in an attempt to relieve the pounding in his skull. A wetness ran down from his nose, over his lips and off his chin to land on his lap in a continual drip, the soft plip the only sound aside from his ragged breathing.

He remained there, hunched over for what could have been minutes or hours, until the pain finally lessened enough that Nammu risked removing his hands, one eye slitting open cautiously. It was thankfully still dark out, the hearth downstairs burnt down into a low glow he could tolerate, and his companions thankfully undisturbed by his presumed thrashing- he sincerely doubted that he had remained still and quiet through all of that.

Nammu forced himself up onto wobbly legs, hand coming up to wipe shakily at his nose, which had thankfully stopped dripping. It came away coated in blood, and now that he was upright Nammu could see that he was covered in it. His sleep clothes were completely soaked in both blood and sweat, as were the blankets the Skaal had so kindly lent him.

Stripping the bed, Nammu snuck downstairs and out the back door to the water trough he had seen earlier. He had to break the ice that had formed along the top, pausing every few seconds to make sure the noise hadn't woken anyone. Thankfully, the strong wind seemed to cover most of it, and so he carried on. He worked diligently, mind focused only on the task he was doing and the steps that needed to be done next: first wet the clothes and sheets. Scrub out the stains and wring them out. Take them inside to dry over the hearth. Stoke the fire and warm his freezing hands. Check their supplies. Write a letter to Auryen.

The hours until dawn passed in this manner, keeping hands busy and mind carefully blank. When the hearth-keeper arrives he greets her, offers to help make breakfast. She accepts gladly, and soon after his companions are also up and eating. They set off shortly after, waving to Storn as they go, intent on reaching the Beast Stone by noon. With a fresh task in mind and companions to keep him occupied with conversation, Nammu has successfully passed the night Not Thinking About It. Perhaps next time it will be easier. Perhaps next time, if he ever speaks to him again, they will be on more equal footing and Miraak will not be able to hurt him anymore.

-------------------

"What exactly is it you two are hoping to find here?" Frea asked, cutting down the Jumping Flame Spider that had leapt at her from the scaffolding above. The spider exploded, coating her in a generous splatter of ichor and spider guts. Frea groaned in dismay, picking a clump out of her hair.

They had finished cleansing the All-Maker stones within the week with fairly little difficulty (with the exception of the Earth stone; cleansing it had summoned not one but two lurkers- two! Nammu could have cried in frustration) and had been looping back towards the Skaal village when they'd happened upon White Ridge Barrow. Nammu had felt something within chime in recognition, which he'd come to learn usually meant there was a Word Wall nearby. He'd persuaded his companions into taking a quick peek inside, and now here they were.

There was absolutely no other reason he was delaying their return back to the village. Nope. No wizard-shaped avoidance issues at all. Just plain old curiosity and a vague guilt that he hadn't sent anything of value back to Auryen in a while… that was all, Inigo.

"Hopefully some more information we can use against Miraak," Nammu replied, flicking idly through the journal he had just picked up- the spiders could apparently be imbued with powers, how interesting- "for such a supposedly important figure, there is surprisingly little evidence of his existence. Almost like someone took great measures to erase any signs of him."

"And you're hoping to find some in a spider-ridden cave?"

He gestured over to the nearby wall, "See those engravings over there? One of the figures wears robes and a mask similar to Miraak's. My guess is this was originally the tomb of one of his contempories- what better place to look for information? And this-" he held up the journal- "mentions an odd chanting coming from the inner chamber. Sounds promising. Besides, Inigo likes the spiders."

They both looked over to Inigo, who was at that moment stomping on a cluster of spider eggs, cackling with an especially fervent glee.

"…right. Into the ominous chanting chamber then?"

"Yes, I think that would be wise."

The source of the ominous chanting turned out to be an ancient dragon priest lich, which was great. What was less great was that the priest took one look at Nammu and then immediately tried to kill him.

"What did you do to piss it off?"

"I don't know! It just looked at my face then attacked me!" Nammu ducked under a swing of the lich's staff, residual frost magic freezing the metal frames of his goggles to an uncomfortable chill. The priest hissed threateningly.

"Understandable, I too have often been brought to a murderous rage by the sight of your face alone."

"Now is not the time, Inigo! Help me!"

Nammu ducked under another strike from the staff, retaliating with a quick strike of his sword into the priest's ribcage. The priest shrieked, moving itself quickly out of stabbing range. It did not strike back. Instead, it hovered there ominously, the hollow eyes of the mask boring into him.

Nammu stopped at well, panting as he adjusted his grip on his sword, eyes not leaving the smooth featureless face before him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Inigo and Frea creeping slowly into better positions, flashing him a quick hand-sign as they moved; strike together, soon.

He blinked slowly in acknowledgement, otherwise unmoving, and just as they were ready to strike-

"Aan dovahkiin…"

They all froze as the whisper echoed through the chamber, slithering with all the threat of a snake, cold and guttural.

"Gein dovahkiin, vonmindoraan. Hi piraak ronit sil… nuz ronit bahlok? Kos kril med Miraak?"

Shaking himself free of his shocked stupor, Nammu took a hesitant step forward. "Miraak? You knew him?"

The priest snarled, a terrible rattling thing; "Tahrodiis sonaak. Rok kos daniik vodahmin!" The air grew heavy as magic gathered around the lich, frost gathering around it's hands as two horrifying creatures were summoned into being behind it- the same ones he had seen flanking Miraak in the Black Book. "Hin mindok do rok los tahrodiis. Hi fent dir"

With a powerful blast of ice magic, the battle commenced once more. It was brutal and bloody- despite Inigo and Frea doing their best to divert attention, the priest set upon Nammu with a vicious single-mindedness. It was all they could do to hold back the summoned creatures so he did not have to contend with them on top of an enraged dragon priest.

It was probably one of the most difficult fights of his life- comparable to the first dragon he'd fought in Whiterun. Frost magic burnt against his skin, his dunmer blood offering him no resistance against it, and metal armour was proving more hindrance than help as it slowly froze over. Limbs were turning numb and leaden with repeated exposure, making each swing of the sword feel like hauling heavy weights, reactions slowing and making it more and more difficult to avoid further attacks. It was a vicious cycle, and Nammu realised with a dull horror that if he could not free himself of it soon, he would be doomed.

Through chattering teeth, he sucked in a frigid gulp of air before releasing it in a Shout; Fus!

The undead priest was pushed back, hissing, giving Nammu just enough time and space to fumble a frost-resistance potion from his pocket and down it. Then with a desperate yell, he threw the empty bottle directly into the priest's face.

It reeled back, shrieking in rage as the glass shattered upon the infuriatingly impassive mask. Determined not to lose the advantage and just end this already, Nammu quickly closed the gap and thrust his blade into the lich's hollow stomach, angled upwards to pierce it's unbeating heart.

The dragon priest gave a final, rattling moan before dissolving into a pile of ash. Its armour and mask fell to the floor with a resounding clang, the robes fluttering down to form a rather sad looking pile. A pitiful end to a powerful foe.

Leaning his weight on his sword, Nammu reached down to fish out the mask. Even with the wearer dead, it hummed with a powerful magic. He turned it over in his hands - on the back there was an inscription, made up of the same markings as the Word Walls. Nammu still could not read them himself without the guidance of a dragon soul, but as he ran his thumb over those carved letters there was a faint whisper in his mind, a final remnant of the priest he'd slain:

Dukaan.

So that had been the priest's name. Dukaan. He wondered what it meant- knowing dragons, probably something appropriately gruesome and fear-inducing. For a brief moment, he wished that he was not at odds with Miraak, so that he could ask him…but that was ridiculous. Miraak had made it more than clear that they could be nothing more than foes. The man he remembered from his youth was long gone.

Where did he go?

…I miss him.

"Friend, come look at this! Another one of those Black Books."

Coming back to himself, Nammu tucked away the mask into his pack and his melancholic musings along with it, before going to join the others over at the alter at the end of the chamber. There was indeed a Black Book, sitting innocuously on a plinth in front of a Word Wall- which he'd somehow missed when entering the chamber. Then again, he had been rather distracted.

"Odd to find one here in the domain of another priest- coincidence do you think?"

"Could be," he murmured, hand hovering over the leather-bound cover, "twice is mere coincidence, but if we come across another in the keeping of a dragon priest…well. No point speculating about it now."

Inigo leaned into his line of sight, brow creased in concern. "…are you going to read it?"

Nammu withdrew his hand. "No. I think it's probably about time we go speak to the supposed expert before trying to read one again."

"You mean…"

"Yes," Nammu sighed, thoroughly put out, "it's probably about time we go speak to Neloth."