The smoke still lingered long after the last scream had faded.
I stood in the middle of Dragon Bridge, sword still slick with blood, the ash of burning roofs settling across my armor like snow. The night sky above was a dull smear of black and gray, the stars hidden behind the smoke that refused to lift. The village that I'd ridden into just yesterday—a quiet stop on the road, a place with a tired old inn and a few smiling faces—now looked like a corpse sprawled across the stone.
We win the fight... But what did we get in the end?
Bodies lined the street. Cultists in those bone-white masks. Villagers. Even the ones who'd tried to fight with farming tools. I could still hear the echo of the fight in my ears, steel against steel, screams cut short, the dull crunch of bodies falling.
I tightened my grip on the hilt. My knuckles were white, the leather grip sticky with dried blood that wasn't all mine.
I couldn't help but feel that it's my fault! Because I know it is my fault...
"Chad!"
I turned at the voice. Captain Aldia was alive, somehow. His armor dented, streaked black with ash, but he still stood tall, his voice carrying the weight of command even with only a handful of soldiers left at his side.
Daric leaned against him, his left arm wrapped hastily in bandages. His face was pale, his eyes wide. He had seen enough blood to last him a lifetime in one night. I remembered the kid's laugh on the carriage, the way he'd talked about wanting to be a trader one day. Now he looked like a man twice his age.
"You with us?" Aldia asked, his voice low but steady.
I gave a sharp nod. "Yeah. I'm with you."
He gestured to the ragged line of survivors behind him. Barely a dozen souls—half soldiers, half townsfolk who'd grabbed weapons and somehow lived long enough to see dawn. Their eyes flicked to me when Aldia spoke, as if waiting to see what I would do. I wasn't their captain. I wasn't even from their world. But for some reason, they were watching me like I mattered.
That weight pressed down hard.
Aldia motioned to the bodies of the cultists. "Search them. They didn't come here by chance."
We moved through the wreckage. I kicked one corpse over, the mask cracked but still covering its face. The smell hit me—the reek of burnt flesh, sweat, and something foul underneath. I forced myself not to gag and crouched down, searching through the robes.
That was when I found it.
Not a letter. A tablet. Black stone, etched with grooves that pulsed faintly in the firelight. The symbols were jagged, not Nordic runes but something deeper, older. The moment my fingers brushed the surface, I felt a sting in my mind, like a whisper coiling behind my ear.
I snatched my hand back, heart hammering.
Daric staggered closer. "What… what is that thing?" His voice cracked.
I didn't answer. My eyes stayed locked on the grooves. The whisper was faint but I knew the cadence. I'd heard it before. The same low, inhuman rhythm that had rolled across my head when I'd stood in Kilkreath Temple.
Hermaeus Mora.
I grit my teeth, shoved the tablet into a cloth, and tied it shut before anyone else could touch it. I didn't want them hearing that voice.
"It's nothing you want to look at," I muttered.
Aldia's sharp gaze caught me. "You know something."
I didn't deny it. "I know enough to say we shouldn't keep this thing lying around."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't press further. Maybe he saw the way my hands trembled when I held it. Maybe he already knew some burdens weren't meant to be shared.
We burned the rest of the bodies. Villagers, cultists—it didn't matter. They all went to the flames. The pyres turned the night into a ghastly day, smoke rolling thick into the mountains. The survivors stood in silence, some crying quietly, others too hollow to shed tears.
I stayed near the fire until the tablet seemed heavier in my pack than any sword I'd carried.
Later, in the inn—or what was left of it—I found myself in the corner of the one standing room with a bedframe intact. My armor leaned against the wall, dented and filthy. The amulet Taarie had given me rested against my chest, warm even in the chill that seeped through the broken shutters.
I thought about her words before I left Solitude. Return, and I'll confess my feelings.
It had felt like a promise then. Something to look forward to, something to fight toward. But tonight, sitting in a burned-out inn with smoke still clinging to my lungs, I realized how fragile those words were. One night. One attack. And people I'd spoken to only hours ago were gone.
The old lady from the carriage. Dead. The innkeeper... Dead.
Even the soldiers—trained men—wiped out in a blink.
How could I promise anyone anything?
I stared at the amulet. It pulsed faintly, like there was more to it than I understood. Magic. Protection, maybe. Or just her warmth clinging to it. I didn't know. But the thought of Taarie waiting in Solitude—smiling, pretending her words were nothing but a joke—hit me harder than the fight itself.
I couldn't let that smile be wiped away like the others.
Which meant I couldn't stop here.
...
At dawn, Aldia gathered the survivors again. His voice was calm, controlled, but his face was drawn tight.
"Dragon Bridge stands," he said, though half the town was ash. "We will rebuild. We always rebuild. The Empire does not bend to shadows or masks."
The survivors muttered in agreement, but the fire in their eyes was gone.
Daric leaned close to me as we stood there. "You're still leaving, aren't you?"
I nodded once.
I talked with Captain Aldia before, but I didn't reveal everything to her. Just that I needed to leave and ask for a horse. He surprisingly agreed and didn't ask much... Yet I feel like he already noticed something about me.
Daric mouth twisted. "I don't blame you. But… damn, I thought maybe we'd travel a little longer."
I clapped him on the shoulder. "You've got your own fight now. Help rebuild. They'll need you."
He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.
When I finally saddled up to leave, Aldia stopped me at the edge of town. He held out a small bundle—bread, dried meat, a flask of water. Supplies for the road.
"Wherever you're going," he said, his voice heavy, "know this. The ones in those masks… they were here for a reason. They weren't after Dragon Bridge. They were after you."
I froze.
His eyes were steady. "I've seen men hunted before. They looked at you like a predator looks at prey. Be careful."
I wanted to lie. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that it was all coincidence. But I couldn't. His words were too close to the truth I was trying to bury.
I nodded stiffly. "I'll manage."
And then I rode east.
Every hoofbeat echoed in my chest. Every mountain shadow looked like a mask. Every whisper of wind sounded like a voice.
Miraak knew I was coming.
And so did Mora.
I couldn't hide forever. Sooner or later, I would have to stand where Miraak stood and look him in the eye.
The only question was whether I'd still be alive when that moment came.