The first thing I noticed in the dream was how still everything felt. The wind wasn't stirring, the trees weren't moving, and even the water refused to move. It was too quiet, eerily so.
I stood at the edge of a lake that had water so clear and reflective. It reflected the night sky in crisp, perfect detail, two moons overhead. I looked into the water, but the girl staring back from the water wore my old face. My real one. Pale, freckled, wild red hair gathered into a loose braid over one shoulder. Riley. I blinked, and she blinked with me.
But that's not what caught my breath. No, that was reserved for the girl sitting across on the other side of the lake's shore. She looked like me, too. Or rather, she looked like this body, the one I'd woken up in, the Snow Elf. But even in a simple sleeveless robe that shimmered silver in the moonlight, she looked... regal.
Her hands moved slowly through the lake's surface, fingers trailing soft ripples. The moment I stepped forward, her head tilted up to meet me with a smile. "You need to wake up," she said gently, voice soft as fresh snow. "You're in danger."
I blinked at her, thrown off. "Wait, what?"
But before she could say anything more, before I could figure out who she even was, a scream tore through the dream. Sharp and high. It cut the silence in half, echoing off nothing and everything.
The world around us trembled. The lake shivered. The stars rippled. I turned toward the sound just as a wind kicked up from nowhere, whipping my hair into my face, bringing with it a smell I recognized far too easily.
Iron.
This was fresh. Tangy.
Blood.
The elf girl stood abruptly, silver fabric lifting around her. Her eyes locked with mine, steady, urgent. "Wake up," she said again, more firm this time. "Now."
Another scream, louder, closer. I gasped and stumbled backward into the dark.
I jolted upright with a sharp inhale, heart slamming against my ribs like it wanted to sprint out of my chest. For a second, I didn't know where I was. I half-expected to feel lake water on my toes still or frost under my knees.
Instead, wood creaked. A lantern swayed faintly on its hook above the window. The dim outline of my spear leaned in the corner of the bed. I was still in the Salty Lantern Inn. My bed creaked as I shifted upright, blanket falling to my waist. Everything seemed normal.
Until I realized every hair on my arms was standing straight up. Wind screamed outside the window. Another scream.
I threw off the blanket and bolted to the window. From my room on the second floor, I had a decent view of the north quarter, and what I saw made my breath freeze in my throat. Smoke.
Orange light flickered behind it, firelight. Whole buildings were burning. Shouts rose from the street below. People were yelling, running. Some carried bundles. Others dragged children by the hand.
A thunderclap. No, not thunder, something heavy slamming against something wooden. A gate? A door? I heard it even from up here. I was already moving.
My hand gripped the spear's shaft. I slipped the mask onto my face, its enchantment humming faintly against my cheekbones. By the time I reached the door, more screams rang out. This time, closer. Whatever was happening... the dream girl had been right. I was in danger.
The stairs groaned under my boots as I took them two at a time. The inn creaked around me, still heavy with sleep. The walls smelled of fish oil and damp wood, but there was the smell of smoke now. Faint, acrid, just enough to catch in the back of my throat.
I hit the bottom floor, chest heaving as I skidded to a halt by the front door. No one else was downstairs. When I pushed the door open, heat rolled into me like a punch. It wasn't just one fire. It was dozens. A building across the square, one I remembered seeing fishmongers gossiping in earlier, was a roaring inferno, roof already collapsed, flames licking through broken windows.
Guards scrambled in the streets, steel flashing under moonlight. Twelve guards total, scattered and shouting over each other. Screams tore through the night again, this time from the far side of the port town. People were running past the inn, wide-eyed and half-dressed, dragging satchels or nothing at all. I saw a Breton man sprint past barefoot, holding a weeping toddler under one arm. In his other hand appeared to be a short sword.
The smoke rolled in thicker now. I backed toward the inn's support beam, heart hammering as I scanned the street. The fire was definitely the source, but it was spreading too fast. Maybe something had been doused in oil.
I heard the guards yelling again.
"Hold the line! Don't let the townsfolk panic—"
"The northern gate is gone, they've broken through—"
"Get the women and children to the boats! Now!"
And then, clearer than anything else, a voice shouted:
"By the Divines, what's happening?"
I turned just in time to see one of the guards grab a fleeing man, mud streaked across his face, clothes torn at the seams.
His answer. "It's the Wild Hunt. Hircine has come!"
My blood turned cold in an instant, colder than any lake water, colder than the snow water I had to swim through when I got to this world. Hircine. The Daedric Lord of the Hunt. The God of the chase. The Huntsmen. Quickly, I left the inn and ran past the guards, making my way towards the docks.
I looked up.
The moons had changed. Now boiled red. The air grew tight, heavy. And then came the horn.
"RAAAAAUUMMMM!"
It shook the bones in my chest. It made my ears ring behind the mask. I had barely made it to the docks when a body hit landed, not even a few steps behind me. It rolled, thudding wetly, until it stopped at the feet of the slaver group from earlier. I recognized him, the dark-haired one who'd been arguing about prices when I passed. His torso was still whole. His guts weren't. A wide gash split him open from groin to ribs. Intestines spilled, and there was smoke, like when something hot is left outside in the cold.
One of the guards vomited into the street.
The others stood with weapons at the ready. Until shapes began to appear in the smoke. Large ones. The silhouette nearest was wrong. It was too tall. It held a long staff, its end dragging on the ground like a shepherd's crook. Horns or antlers rose from a deer head. I couldn't tell what they were exactly, not through the haze, but I could feel it looking at us.
The second it locked eyes with me, I felt it. My muscles went tight. My ears itched, then twitched, my fingers lengthened into claws. My breath came in short bursts. Everything became clearer.
"The hungry cat has come!" a voice squeaked nearby.
I turned, snapping out of the trance. A Khajiit slave from before was shackled near the end of the dock. He was trembling, eyes huge, back pressed against the post as far as the chain would let him.
And then they poured out of it.
Not just wolves. Werewolves. Behind them, I saw broader shapes, werebears. The guards tried to hold. Some did. Brave, stupid bastards. They met the beasts head-on. Swords swung. Arrows hissed. Two werewolves dropped to the cobblestone, throats torn or bellies speared. But the rest didn't care. They kept coming, trampling over corpses.
Screams blurred with the roar of fire and the sound of metal splintering bone. Blood slicked the dock. The guards were done. What few hadn't fled were already being torn apart. I saw one Dunmer try to duck behind a cart. He never made it. A werewolf caught him mid-turn, slamming the dunmer into the ground as it began to rip him apart.
The Khajiit saw me first. He had dropped to one knee, tail pressed flat against the dock boards, breathing in quick, terrified bursts. His gaze kept twitching toward the smoke wall, where the largest silhouette still lingered, watching.
The slaves were panicking, jerking at their restraints as werewolves closed in. One orc had already stood, fists raised. I forced myself to move, to push down the shaking in my limbs. My boots slapped hard against the wooden planks. My cloak flared behind me as I reached the first post.
The iron chain was wrapped twice around the support beam. My chest rose as I inhaled through my nose. The scent of blood, burning, fear. My fingers curled. The chain creaked once under my grip. Then again. Iron shrieked until it snapped.
The orc beside me stared dumbly, barely registering what he'd seen. He just dropped his gaze to the loosened cuff. I quickly moved to the next one, another chain. Another pull. It gave with a hard snap, scattering rust flakes across the dock. The Khajiit flinched as it broke, but then scrambled upright.
Behind us, the Wild Hunt roared closer.
"Get up! Move!" I barked, and the last to move was the girl. When I shattered her lock, she didn't speak. She just stared at me.
A roar split the dock, close, too close. A werewolf landed ten feet away, claws gouging the planks, mouth open in a snarl. It locked eyes with me and lunged.
I gripped my spear in front of me ready to meet it head-on—
—but a massive weight slammed into my side before I could move.
The world spun.
Cold.
Cold everywhere.
I hit water with the force of a boulder.
Air exploded from my lungs. The world above vanished in a swirl of black and white, firelight distorted. I kicked hard. But a hand grabbed me. Fingers around my wrist. Calloused, strong. Guiding me, not dragging. Pulling me through the dark.
Shapes moved beside me, broad, blurry. One large. One small.
I twisted in the current, blinking through the waves, and saw them.
The old orc, the one I had first saved, had pushed me into the water. Saved me. I watched as he tried to kill the wolf with the chains I had broken, as the beast ripped into his chest. I surfaced once, gasped cold night air into raw lungs, and looked back.
Claws buried in his gut, teeth clamped on his throat. He didn't scream. He just locked eyes with the beast, as he had managed to wrap the chains around its neck, and was pulling, until his body lost its strength. Blood spilled into the water.
I swallowed bile, ducked back under, and kept swimming. The water dragged us along the coast, away from the docks, away from the smoke and the burning and the screaming. The water was cold enough to numb my body,my claws dulled, and things became less visible. Eventually, the current slowed.
And we crawled ashore on a crescent of sand. Wet sand clung to my arms, legs, hair. I staggered upright, cloak hanging heavy off my shoulders, half-frozen. I dropped to my knees, panting hard.
Behind me, the Khajiit collapsed onto his side, soaked and shivering, whiskers twitching. The girl was still face down in the sand, unmoving. I forced myself to my feet. My hands shook as I wiped brine from my eyes. I turned back, toward the burning port.
On the far end of the pier, standing tall was Hircine. A towering figure with a body sculpted, every inch of him raw muscle. His torso was bare, abs slick with blood. A five-pronged trident leaned against one shoulder. And upon his head?
A massive deer skull. White as frost. Bloodred eyes glowing in the sockets, locked directly on me.
I swallowed hard, dragging my gaze away. The Khajiit hadn't moved. The girl hadn't lifted her head. "Not safe here," I muttered, voice shredded. "We have to keep moving."
I bent down, arm curling under the girl's shoulders, and lifted. She was light, too light. Her skin was cold. But her chest still rose and fell in a shallow rhythm. As I pulled her upright, my hand brushed her bare arm—
And the world slammed into my head. Panic. Dread. Pain. Despair. A surge of raw emotion flooded my skull. My vision flickered red. My knees buckled. I let go and stumbled back, gasping.
The feelings faded slowly.
A soft ping echoed in the air in front of me, and a familiar translucent screen blinked to life:
Notification: The Lord of Beasts Watches
I stared at it, heart still jackhammering in my chest. I reached out with a trembling hand and tapped the icon. It opened…
…to nothing but question marks and shifting Daedric symbols.
Of course. I stared at it for a moment longer, then let it fade.
The Khajiit was trying to sit up, fur matted with sand, ribs heaving under his soaked tunic. "This one…" he wheezed, "…agrees… but needs… a second of rest."
I nodded, unable to speak. I dropped beside her again, pulling off my cloak even though it was soaked through, and wrapped it around her anyway. She didn't respond, but her breathing slowed a little.
I looked one last time toward the docks. The Lord of the Hunt was gone.
"We can't stay here," I said, voice hoarse. "We need to move. Now!"
The Khajiit grunted but nodded, dragging himself upright. His fur clung to him like soaked felt, tail limp behind. "This one… can walk."
I crouched beside the girl again, gently shaking her shoulder. "Hey," I whispered. "You still with me?"
No answer. But her eyes fluttered, just briefly, before closing again. I hoisted her into my arms with a grunt. We started to walk down the shoreline.
The further we walked along the shore, the quieter the world became. The only sounds were the squish of wet boots on sand, the soft rasp of breath from the girl cradled in my arms, and the dragging shuffle of Catman at my side. Smoke still curled in the sky behind us, but the firelight was gone, swallowed by distance and sea mist.
We followed the coast blindly, hoping it would lead us somewhere. And after what felt like forever, after my arms were dead and my legs were heavier. I spotted something in the dunes ahead.
Wood. Tattered sailcloth. A rowboat. Small, stuck in sand, but intact. I almost didn't believe it was real.
The Khajiit got to it first. He placed one hand on the edge and ran a thumb across the cracked railing. "It'll float," he muttered, ears still flat. "This one has seen worse."
I carefully laid the girl down on a patch of dry sand and fell to my knees beside her. My arms tingled from the weight, but it was a small price. She was still breathing. That was enough.
"How far do you think it'll get us?" I asked over my shoulder.
The Khajiit was already climbing into the boat, testing the paddles. "Depends on how fast you want to get away. If the tide's with us, this one can reach open sea soon."
I blinked. "You can sail?"
He gave a tired grin, just enough fang showing. "S'lani is a trader. Well… was. Sold spices and dyes before the pirates came. Turns out, being soft-pawed makes you an easy target when coin runs dry."
I paused. "Slavers?"
He nodded slowly. "Took my ship. Took my tail, too, nearly." His ears flicked. "But this one still knows how to move a ship, much less a boat."
Good. That meant we had a chance. I turned back to the girl. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, her skin clammy. I unwrapped the damp cloak around her shoulders, hoping she'd stir.
She did. Just a little. Her lips parted, breath raspy. Then, barely above a whisper, she murmured, "Ar… novia."
I leaned closer. "What?"
Her eyes fluttered halfway open, pale green and unfocused. "My name… it's Arnovia."
"Arnovia," I repeated, like saying it aloud might anchor her to the moment. "I'm Ellehish."
She blinked slowly, lips trembling. "You… carried me."
"I did," I said.
S'lani's ears perked. "Arnovia," he echoed.
She nodded, a bit more strength in her now. "My sister and I… we were on a ship. We were finally leaving for some city, she said it was a surprise." She coughed, shallowly. "Storm hit. I fell. Woke up chained."
"Damn," I muttered.
"She's probably still looking for me," she whispered, so quietly I almost missed it. "She wouldn't stop." Arnovia's eyes drifted closed again, but this time it looked like sleep, not shock. Her chest rose steadily. I wrapped her tighter in the cloak, then stood up.
S'lani had already prepped the oars, crouched at the back of the boat with a determined look. "This one will handle the steering. You sit, keep eyes on the coast."
"Sounds like a plan."
I scooped Arnovia back into my arms and carefully stepped into the boat, settling her down in the middle across some coiled rope. I took a seat near the front, watching S'lani push us off with his shoulder before hopping in.
The boat wobbled, then steadied.
He rowed with slow, eyes half-lidded but alert. The wind caught our sail just enough to help. We drifted away from the shoreline.
"Altmer?" S'lani asked suddenly, glancing up at me.
"What?"
He motioned toward my hair, my build, then hesitated. "Or… Bosmer mix?"
I blinked, then smiled.
"Close enough," I said.
"Ah," he nodded. "This one has not seen eyes like yours before. But who is S'lani to judge strange ears in stranger lands?"
I huffed a soft laugh. "Strange, got me this far."
We rode the silence after that, letting the waves carry us out toward nowhere. The stars above were bright. Arnovia murmured something in her sleep. S'lani rowed steadily.