Ominous clouds swirled above Kynesgrove, casting the small town in a pall of dread. Villagers scattered in panic, their cries echoing through the streets as a massive T-shaped shadow circled overhead. It was the same black dragon that had destroyed Helgen months ago.
Some townsfolk fled down the hill, desperate to put distance between themselves and the beast, though it showed no interest in them. Its attention was fixed instead on the ancient dragon burial mound above the town.
Among the fleeing villagers, a lone figure pressed uphill. A Breton woman with cropped blonde hair and a leather cuirass moved steadily toward the disturbance, unshaken by the chaos around her. Her eyes were sharp, her steps certain—she was not running from the danger, but to it.
A villager stumbled to a stop, staring at her in disbelief.
"I wouldn't go any further if I were you! The town is being beset by… by a dragon!"
"Where is the creature now?" she asked coolly.
"Just up the hill! Circling the burial mound!"
He hurried off, leaving the Breton to her purpose. Delphine climbed higher, scanning the timbered houses for damage. None yet. The dragon was not here to raze the town.
"This is it," she murmured under her breath. "If my theory's correct, you're here for something other than feeding…"
The dragon descended, its shadow blotting out the sky above the mound. With a deep rumble it began to shout in the Dragon Tongue, the guttural words rolling like thunder across the town. The beat of its wings nearly toppled the few guards scrambling to hold their ground. They raised shields, but no steel could touch it.
The burial mound beneath began to glow, pulsing with unnatural light. Delphine ducked behind a wall, teeth gritted against the gale.
"Think, Delphine… How are you going to handle this if they don't show up? If my letter never reached them…"
The ground quaked, the glow intensifying. The black dragon ceased its chant and pulled away, ascending on powerful wingbeats. A few arrows loosed after it fell harmlessly into the snow as the rumbling reached a deafening pitch—then stopped.
Delphine's heart sank. "I knew it… it is you…"
The black dragon shouted once more, a blast of energy slamming into the mound. The earth erupted. Stones and dirt exploded skyward, hurling rubble that battered the guards to the ground. And from the crater rose a skeletal form—an ancient dragon, its bones knitting together, flesh reforming before her eyes.
"You son of a bitch," Delphine breathed, horror flashing across her face. "You're the one bringing them back."
Satisfied, the black dragon turned and vanished into the clouds. But the newly reborn beast fell to earth with a roar, its scales gleaming like freshly forged ice.
The guards never stood a chance. One man was frozen solid beneath its first blast and shattered like glass in its jaws. Another screamed as the dragon's teeth pierced his body, his broken corpse flung like a ragdoll into the trees. Delphine froze. She had suspected, but seeing a dragon returned from death—the reality of it stole her breath.
Nearby, a villager cried out, trapped with a mangled leg. The dragon's head swung toward her, nostrils flaring as if scenting her fear. With a single beat of its wings it launched into the air, jaws snapping. The woman shrieked as the dragon's teeth caught the fabric of her dress and wrenched her skyward.
"This is bad," Delphine whispered. "It's going to kill everyone."
Then—footsteps. Rapid, pounding along the roofline. Delphine looked up, eyes widening. A young man with locs and a tattered red cloak sprinted across the shingles. At the edge of the rooftop he skidded low, drew in a great breath, and Shouted.
"Fus! Ro! Dah!"
The force of his Thu'um hurled him into the air, straight toward the dragon. The beast swung the helpless woman overhead, opening its jaws to swallow her whole—
"Wuld! Nah! Kest!"
The second Shout propelled the boy past the dragon's head in a blur of speed. He snatched the woman from its jaws in mid-flight, both of them crashing down into a haystack below.
Delphine blinked. Had she just seen a boy… fly?
The hay burst apart and the young man emerged, hauling the shaken woman to her feet.
"Are you alright, miss?"
"One moment I was about to be eaten, and now—how did you…" She could barely form the words.
"Can you stand? We need to get you out of here."
"My leg's injured. I won't make it. You should leave me."
Delphine rushed forward, slipping beneath the woman's arm to bear her weight.
By now the dragon had turned its fury on the houses, spewing shards of ice that splintered wood and stone. Delphine sprinted with the woman in tow—only to be yanked sideways as something huge caught her by the arm. She looked up into the scarred face of a dark elf clad in steel.
"Nice work, lad," Gavhelus growled, pulling her behind cover as ice tore the street apart. "But please tell me the haystack was all part of the plan."
The boy dusted himself off, cheeks flushed. "Yeah… let's go with that."
Delphine steadied herself, still carrying the injured woman, but her eyes never left the young man who had just torn through a dragon like a whirlwind of steel and fury.
"Are you… the one that got my letters?" she asked.
The boy turned, his red cloak tattered at the edges, his chest still heaving from the fight. "So you're Delphine? Well, in that case, I'm your guy. You can call me Kin. This is my mentor, Gavhelus."
The dark elf gave a wolfish grin. "Gudday, luv."
"It's nice that you both came all this way," Delphine said quickly, glancing at the smoldering ruins of the town. "But the dragon is going to kill us if we don't do something!"
Kin shook blood from his hand and squared his shoulders. "No worries, ma'am. That's why we came after all. You wanted proof I'm the Dragonborn, right? Sit back and watch."
Before Delphine could respond, he was already sprinting uphill. The dragon's icy breath carved furrows in the ground, but Kin darted between the blasts, cloak snapping in the wind. The beast spotted him and swooped low, claws raking the earth—but with a sudden cry of Wuld Nah Kest! the boy vanished in a blur, leaving only gouged soil in its talons. When the dust cleared, he was behind the dragon, hands brimming with purple light.
"Hey kid…" Gavhelus muttered, brow furrowed. "You do have a plan, right?"
Kin gritted his teeth, aura sparking between his palms. "Workin' on it!"
He thrust his arms forward. The aura burst outward—and with it, fire took shape. A flaming woman appeared, hovering just above the snow, her hair and limbs made of writhing embers. A Flame Atronach.
The dragon swung its head, throat already glowing with frost.
"You gotta knock it outta the sky, lad!" Gavhelus shouted.
"I said I'm workin' on it!" Kin barked back, gesturing. "Go for it!"
The atronach answered, flames roaring in its hands. With a violent thrust downward, it launched itself skyward, spiraling toward the beast. The dragon spewed frost to meet it; shards of ice shredded through the fiery form, breaking it apart bit by bit. Still, it pressed forward, until a direct blast finally shattered its body.
But not before it exploded. A bloom of fire erupted in the dragon's face.
"Gotcha!" Kin roared.
The explosion ripped through the monster's jaw, tearing scale and flesh. The dragon shrieked and plummeted, slamming into the earth with a crash that shook the village. Dust and rock billowed up, choking the air. Kin shielded his eyes with his cloak, waiting.
When the haze thinned, the dragon lay crippled. Smoke curled from its maw. A wing lay bent at a sick angle. It tried once, twice, to summon another icy blast—only blood spilled from its mouth.
Kin advanced, summoning a blade of bound magicka into his hand. The dragon, frantic, lashed its tail; stones the size of shields hurtled toward him. With a spin of his sword, Kin sliced them apart, scattering fragments into the dirt. He pressed on, sprinting hard.
The dragon raised its unbroken wing for a crushing blow. Kin inhaled deep, never breaking stride.
"Wuld Nah Kest!"
He vanished—and then came the light. Flashes ripped through the dragon's body, head to tail, faster than any mortal eye could follow. Kin reappeared behind it, kneeling in the snow, his blade dispersing into smoke.
The dragon's head rose one last time. It bellowed an agonized roar, blood streaming from fresh gashes—then collapsed, dead.
The air shimmered. From the corpse rose a swirling stream of light, golden and alive, drawn into Kin's chest. The dragon's flesh withered to nothing, leaving only bone.
Delphine stared, lips parted. All her doubts vanished in that one impossible moment. "I'll be damned… he's the genuine article, isn't he?"
"Oy!" Gavhelus shouted. "You alright over there, lad?"
Kin staggered, still breathing hard, hand trembling from the surge of power. "All good! Just need a second!"
He closed his eyes, steadying himself with deep breaths until the shaking stilled. When he opened them again, Gavhelus and Delphine were at his side, the dragon's bones smoking around them.
Gavhelus wrinkled his nose. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that whole transformation part. Ick."
Kin chuckled wearily. "You? The lycanthrope?"
"Not the same thing by a mile, and you know it."
"If you say so, big guy."
Delphine still hadn't found her words. Hope shone through her disbelief—the kind of hope she'd nearly given up on. A Dragonborn. The one thing that could turn the tide of Skyrim's crisis stood right before her.
"That was… remarkable," she admitted at last. "I didn't actually expect you to be the real Dragonborn."
"We kinda figured," Kin said with a half-smile. "Especially after that trick you pulled with the Horn."
Her lips tightened. "I have it for you, as promised. I just needed to know I could trust you."
She produced the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. But before Kin could take it, a hand darted out and snatched it away.
Gavhelus.
"Well, now we're the ones who need to know we can trust you," he said flatly, tucking the relic under one arm. His eyes narrowed. "Start explainin' yourself, lady. What's your deal? And what d'you want with Kin here? We're on very important business, and I don't rightly appreciate bein' led on a wild goose chase."
Delphine shot a sharp look at Gavhelus, but didn't try to reclaim the Horn. "I suppose that's fair. Well, what do you want to know?"
"For starters—who are you, really?" Gavhelus pressed.
"My name is Delphine," she said, lifting her chin. "I am a member of an ancient order called the Blades. We were—are—tasked with protecting Skyrim from the threat of dragons. In the old legends, we even fought beside the Dragonborn to defeat the World-Eater." Her gaze flicked toward the horizon. "I believe that black dragon we saw is him."
Kin stepped forward, voice firm. "We saw it flying away when we got here. I'm… very familiar with that creature."
Understanding dawned in Gavhelus's expression. "So that's how the bastard's pulling this off without setting foot in Skyrim. The black one—it carries the souls with it. Souls it got from the previous Dragonborn."
Delphine blinked, startled. "Wait—you're saying someone is controlling it?"
Kin nodded grimly. "When I first came to Skyrim, my father and I were attacked by men claiming to follow him. They said there can only be one true Dragonborn… and that I was an abomination."
"By the Divines…" Delphine whispered. "This is worse than I imagined. I thought it might have been a Thalmor scheme."
Gavhelus barked a sharp laugh. "Geez, lady—does this look like some political game to you? This is old, ancient stuff. Same age as your Blades, I'd wager."
Delphine's shoulders sagged. "When you're working alone, it's hard to know what to believe. That's why I reached out. With the Dragonborn's help, maybe the Blades can finally fulfill our purpose again. How much do you actually know about this… previous Dragonborn?"
"Not much," Kin admitted. "Only that he needs me gone for his plan to work. He can revive all the dragons he wants, but as long as I live, their souls are at risk of being taken."
"Not dead, lad," Gavhelus corrected. "If you die, another Dragonborn'll appear eventually. No—he wants you alive and tucked away. He means to capture you."
Delphine closed her eyes. "Then my task is far greater than I realized."
"You can say that again," Gavhelus muttered. "We're dealin' with a god gone rogue."
Delphine looked between them, desperate. "How do we even begin to fight something like that?"
Kin's expression hardened. "We're still working that part out. But we do know this—every soul I take leaves him weaker."
"How many do you have?" she asked.
"Three," Kin said. "The first two nearly killed me. Whiterun's entire guard had to help with one."
Gavhelus gave a dry chuckle. "Kid's still learnin'. One scaly bird at a time."
Delphine nodded thoughtfully. "Then tell me how I can help."
"We need an expert," Gavhelus said. "Someone who knows their anatomy. A dragon hunter."
Kin smirked. "Sounds exactly like what the Blades are meant for."
"Oh," Gavhelus blinked. "Guess I did just describe you, huh? Tell me, luv—any more of you Blades around?"
"Only one," Delphine admitted. "But I haven't seen him in a long time. If I can find him, he could help us. I'll need time to gather information."
"That works," Kin said. "We've got business in Windhelm anyway."
"What kind of business?"
"Friend of ours is going to try and stall the civil war," Gavhelus explained. "So we can focus on the dragons."
Kin added, "And we figured it might help the argument if the Dragonborn was there."
Delphine's brows rose. "You think Ulfric will stop?"
"We… hope," Kin said.
"All I can say is good luck. He's stubborn as they come. I'll look for my friend and send word by courier if I find anything."
"No more funny business either," Gavhelus warned.
Delphine chuckled. "You have my word. I'll be in Riverwood. Safe travels, Dragonborn."
She descended the hill, her figure shrinking into the dusk. Kin and Gavhelus lingered, helping the villagers clear rubble and tend wounds. Kin insisted on it. Slaying a dragon was one thing, but if he was ever to earn Skyrim's trust, he needed to prove he cared for its people.
By evening, they were exhausted but resolute. At dawn they set out for Windhelm on foot, joking and trading barbs as the frozen road crunched beneath their boots—until Gavhelus stopped dead, nostrils flaring.
"Kin," he hissed. "Stop."
The boy froze. "What is it?"
"Someone's comin'."
"Are the dead telling you this?" Kin asked, wary.
"No…" Gavhelus's lip curled. "I can quite literally smell them."
An instant later, a fireball screamed through the air and detonated between them. The explosion hurled both men off their feet. Kin rolled hard into the snow, ears ringing, vision blurred. He coughed through the smoke, blinking at the shifting silhouettes within.
"Gavhelus! Are you alright? Gav—"
A figure burst from the haze, weapon raised.
"I'd worry about myself if I were you," the stranger snarled.
Steel flashed. Kin barely managed to summon a bound sword in time, the clash sending him skidding back into the dust.
"What's going on?" he shouted. "Who are you?"
The figure gave no answer, only pressed the attack. They were fast—inhumanly so—darting in and out of the smoke with relentless strikes. Kin's reflexes strained to keep up, his ears still ringing from the blast. Every block rattled his arms; frustration clawed at his chest.
He swung hard, but the figure vanished before the blade could land. Silence fell, thick as the smoke that curled around him. His breathing quickened, senses on edge.
Then—movement. He inhaled sharply, turned toward it, and Shouted.
"Fus! Roh! Dah!"
The Unrelenting Force blasted through the haze, hurling the attacker back. Smoke cleared just enough for Kin to see her: a woman, masked and cloaked, light armor clinging close to her form. Only her eyes glinted out from beneath a hijab-like hood. The style—foreign, unmistakable—he recognized from Hammerfell.
She landed lightly, blade raised. And she wasn't alone. Two more masked women stepped from the thinning smoke to flank her. Their cover was gone, but their intent was clear.
Kin's voice cut through the haze. "What is this all about? Who are you, and why are you attacking me?"
The lead woman's answer came sharp and formal, as though reciting a sentence already passed. "Kinetrius V'orrn. Son of Falwon V'orrn. I hereby place you under arrest for crimes of theft against Hammerfell."
Kin's grip on his bound blade faltered. "What crimes? My father is dead—has been for some time."
"Your father left Hammerfell with artifacts of great value. Things he never should have touched. There are people who want them back. That is all I am at liberty to tell you."
The weight of her words sank in. Kin let his conjured sword dissipate, rising slowly to his feet. "If you're here, then you know more about my father than I ever did. I don't know anything about the trinkets he sold, or how he got them. That trip we took to Skyrim five years ago… it was my first glimpse of his work. And then he was murdered."
The commander's mask tilted. "Falwon… murdered? He was no ordinary man. Unrivaled in most schools of combat. And you would have me believe him slain? By whom?"
"It's a long story," Kin said carefully. "Can we put the weapons away for a moment and talk?"
"Not until you tell us where he hid the relics."
"I don't know!" Kin snapped. "I was arrested immediately after the attack. I didn't even get to bury him. If he stole something, I was the last person he'd have trusted with it."
"You're lying…"
"Wait." One of the women lifted a hand. "I believe him."
The commander turned sharply. "Are you sure, Taviiah? If you sense any falseness in his words, I will cut him down right here."
Kin blinked. "Oh, you'll definitely try… can't say much for the success rate. Wait—Taviiah? It can't be…"
One of the masked figures stepped forward and tugged down her face covering. Kin's breath caught. Golden braids framed a face he knew as well as his own childhood—eyes a bright, unimpressed yellow that seemed to stare straight through him. Memories surfaced unbidden: afternoons lugging heavy tomes from his father's library to the BlackCaster Mages Guild; her teasing laughter, the only warmth in those lonely years.
"Hey, Kinny," she said, her tone maddeningly casual. "Long time no see."
Kin's voice cracked. "What… are you doing here?"
She glanced back. The commander gave a curt nod.
"Looking for you," Taviiah said.
"Why… me?"
The commander broke in, sharp and efficient. "Signal to Kivalah that it is safe to approach."
"I… don't see her," another woman said, scanning the smoke.
"Lookin' for this lit'l thing?"
All heads whipped around. Gavhelus emerged from the haze, his massive frame shadowed against the light. One arm was wrapped around a struggling figure in a chokehold. He dragged them forward a few steps and then tossed them into the dirt. The body lay limp.
Kin's eyes went wide. So did theirs.
"Don't worry," Gavhelus drawled, dusting his hands. "She's not dead. Just insurance in case this conversation didn't go our way. Nothin' personal. Lucky for her, you lot finally remembered how to use your words."
One of the masked women dropped to her knees, checking the fallen comrade's pulse. "She's fine," she reported at last. "Just unconscious."
"Like I said," Gavhelus replied, flashing a toothy grin. "Barely a scratch."
The commander bristled. "You've got some nerve."
"Well," Gavhelus shrugged, "I ain't a big fan of sneak attacks, lady. Let's call it a nervous reaction, and let bygones be bygones."
The commander's tone sharpened. "Taviiah, do you know these people personally? When were you going to tell us?"
Taviiah turned, her eyes settling on Kin.
"Forgive me. I had to confirm with my own eyes before bringing it to your attention. But yes—we've known each other since childhood. I cannot speak for the brutish one, I'm afraid."
Kin's voice came out harder than he intended. "You still haven't answered my question."
"And I don't have to," she replied coolly. "Just know that we were looking for you, and now we've found you."
Nearby, one of the women coaxed their fallen comrade back to consciousness while the commander oversaw in silence. It seemed they were preparing to leave.
Kin's jaw tightened. "So that's it? No spare shits to give about how I've been?"
"Only you," Taviiah said, "would leave everyone behind and expect someone to care."
"What was I thinking?" Kin snapped. "Of course that's beyond you."
Her eyes narrowed. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"I've been here almost six years," he bit out. "No one came looking for me until now. And of course it's because of my infamous father."
"That's who you wanted to be around all the time, wasn't it?" she shot back. "Looks like you got what you wanted. That is until—"
Kin's bound blade formed in his grip with a hiss of magicka. "Say it."
"Taviiah!" the commander barked. "That is enough. A word."
Taviiah's gaze lingered on Kin, unflinching, before she turned back to her superior.
Slow clapping broke the tension. Gavhelus leaned against a splintered fence post, grin wide. "My oh my… Twelve help us all. Kiddo, do you see yourself right now? Your edgy side's really blossomed, mate!"
Heat flushed Kin's cheeks. He dispersed the weapon, realizing how taut his body had become. He drew in a long breath. Taviiah always knew how to needle him raw, and Gavhelus was unbearable in his delight.
The masked women conferred.
"You know, I could count your assessment as bias," the commander said coldly.
"You think my judgment unclear?" Taviiah asked.
"Is it? You were quick to cut at him with your words—almost as if you spoke without thinking."
"My reasoning was simple," Taviiah replied evenly. "If he had killed his father and taken the relic, he would not have been angered by my words. I assure you, my judgment is not clouded, madam."
The commander studied her. "I want to believe that. But you failed to mention you knew the target. That is unlike you. I understand wanting to be sure, especially with someone close, but I cannot ignore the facts."
Taviiah bowed her head slightly. "…My assessment isn't viable. I understand."
"Go with them," the commander ordered.
Taviiah blinked. "Excuse me?"
"We have other leads in Skyrim. We'll retrieve you when we are finished. If his story does not stay consistent, you will have ample time to draw it out. If it does, then we leave him be—or bring him home, whichever he prefers. Consider this punishment for not telling me everything."
And with that, she turned and strode after the others. Taviiah stood, caught between duty and uncertainty, as the winds picked up.
Kin leaned against the broken fence, cloak drawn around him. "Am I free to go now? I've got somewhere to be."
Taviiah approached slowly, her steps measured. "You are… upset with me, yes?"
Kin didn't turn. "Can we skip this part? I know what you're doing."
"Then you should also know I am an interrogator for the guild," she said softly.
"Leave it. Like I said, I know what you're doing. Same thing you always do—create a reaction, monitor the results."
She studied him. Taviiah had always been able to peel someone apart with a glance, noticing details others would miss. It was unbearable—those bright eyes that never softened, that seemed to look past flesh into something far away.
Kin refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing him fray. And yet, in that moment, she was also a piece of home standing before him.
The wind howled. Then—footsteps.
Before Kin could react, her arms were around him from behind. She pulled him in tight, face pressing into his shoulder.
He froze. He had braced for some cutting remark, something to twist the knife deeper. Instead… warmth. Familiar, steady warmth.
"I can only imagine what losing him was like for you," Taviiah murmured. "He was your whole world. I was working before—I had to be cruel in my method. But I'm sorry I wasn't here for you. That someone wasn't here for you. Are you okay?"
For the first time, Kin had no retort. He only stood there, defenseless in her embrace, realizing how much he had needed it.
Chapter End—