I woke to the faint scent of stone and smoke. The cold that had gnawed at my bones for what felt like an eternity in the snow was finally gone, replaced by a persistent, almost alien warmth. Light slanted through a high, narrow window, dust motes floating like tiny ghosts, catching in the rays as if dancing just to remind me I was alive. Somehow… I was alive.
I pushed myself up on one elbow. Every joint screamed in protest. My university uniform—white blouse tucked into a navy skirt—was stiff and damp, clinging uncomfortably to my body. My shoes left faint white marks across the cold stone floor, crusted with snow that refused to come off completely. I tried to blink away the fog in my head, the lingering cold and exhaustion clawing at my senses.
"Who… helped me?" My voice cracked, rough from cold and disuse.
The door creaked. My head snapped toward it.
An old man stepped inside. Robes of muted gray, embroidered with faintly glowing runes, swirled around him as if they had a life of their own. His long white beard framed a face carved with deep lines of thought and worry, eyes sharp and blue, darting across the room like a hawk assessing prey. In one hand, he held a staff topped with a crystal that radiated warmth I could almost feel against my skin—a strange, humming energy.
He froze mid-step when he saw me.
"Ah… you're finally awake," he said, voice calm but cautious, like a teacher unsure if their pupil could handle the lesson. "Do not… attempt to rise too quickly. You were found in the tundra, exposed to the northern wind. You are… fortunate to survive."
I squinted at him, trying to reconcile this scene with any semblance of reason. Then instinct kicked in. "Uh… okay. But—do you have a hot shower here? And… why are there torches and candles? Is there a power outage?"
The old man's head tilted, his brow furrowing, eyes narrowing as if he were trying to parse an equation written in a language he had never seen. "Shower? Power… outage?" he repeated, slow, deliberate. "I… I do not understand. Shower? Power outage?"
I gestured helplessly, my hands slicing through the thin air between us. "Yeah… you know. Running water, heated water. And these…" I waved at the flickering torches and candles that lined the walls. "…aren't electric. People still… do this?"
He blinked. Slowly. Then his thin lips pursed, and he spoke, deliberate, like counting each word on his tongue. "Here, in Winterhold—indeed, the whole of Tamriel—light and warmth are wrought by fire, wards, and enchantments. Water… is drawn from the well, and heated over flame. What is this… shower you are speaking of?"
"A shower is… something I use back at home. You know, for bathing. Water comes out like rain, and the heater—well, it heats up the water. Seeing this place… whatever you call it—" I swallowed hard. "It… it's like stepping into the Middle Ages."
"It is Winterhold," he said simply, almost as if stating a fact that should explain everything.
"Right… Winterhold. Uhm…" I looked around the room again, bewildered. "…Seems like there's no electricity. I don't see any outlets for electric devices."
He paused, hand frozen midair over the staff. His lips twitched, caught between curiosity and suspicion. "Wait… wait… electricity?"
"Yes. You know, wires, circuits, power grids—electrons moving to give light and heat and run devices." My words tumbled out faster now, a mixture of panic and disbelief. "…It's kind of important where I'm from."
The old man's eyes widened slightly, just enough for me to catch the faintest glint of wonder behind his caution. His voice dropped to a whisper, almost reverent. "Electrons… moving… for light… warmth… machines that… act without magicka…?"
I groaned, sitting back against the stone, utterly exhausted. "…Yeah. That's electricity. Back home, it's… normal."
He lingered, silent, as if weighing the meaning of my words. The crystal atop his staff pulsed faintly, bathing the room in a soft golden light. Shadows danced along the rough stone walls. And for the first time, I realized: I wasn't just in a different place. I wasn't just somewhere cold and snow-blinded. I had been thrown into another world entirely—one where the laws of physics I understood might not even fully apply.
And Winterhold, with its flickering torches, whispering wards, and strange, humming magics… was going to be my new reality.
The old man's staff hummed faintly, casting a soft golden glow across the room. I shifted uncomfortably on the stone cot, my skirt still damp, shoes leaving faint white prints on the floor. Tolfdir stood nearby, arms crossed, brow furrowed, eyes darting between me and the pulsing crystal atop his staff.
"You seem… troubled," he said finally, voice calm but threaded with curiosity. "It is clear this… electricity… weighs on your mind. Perhaps… if you explain it, I Tolfdir, may better understand."
I sat up straighter, despite the ache in my joints. "Okay… well, think of it like this," I began, trying to slow my speech so he could follow. "Electricity is… energy. Like magic, I guess… but it doesn't come from spells. It comes from… electrons moving through something called a conductor—usually metal. Wires. When electrons move, they can power things, make light, heat, or even move mechanical parts."
Tolfdir tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Electrons… moving… through wires… to make light?" He gestured vaguely at the torches. "So, this… is like your magic, but… contained in metal?"
"Sort of," I said, a small spark of hope in my voice that he was getting it. "Magic can move energy too, right? Like the ward you put around me to keep me warm? Electricity… is just a natural force. Instead of spells, people harness it using machines and circuits. For example, a light bulb is like… a tiny magical flame. You feed it electricity, and it shines."
Tolfdir's eyes widened slightly, and he tapped his staff to the floor. "A flame without fire… powered by… the flow of… something invisible?"
"Exactly!" I said, warming to my explanation. "You can also store it in batteries, like a little jar of energy, so you don't need constant flow. And switches control it—like you controlling magic with a gesture, but with your hand on a piece of wood or metal."
He frowned thoughtfully, pacing slowly around the room. "So… a conductor is metal, and… electrons move through it… controlled by… switches? And they can be stored?" He muttered the words as if tasting their meaning. "By the Divines… it is a… curious sort of power. No incantation, no gesture… yet capable of shaping flame and heat…"
"Exactly!" I leaned forward, excited despite my sore muscles. "And we've built machines that do all sorts of things with it—motors, heaters, computers. You can make it obey instructions, do work, even communicate across distances instantly with wires or… well, wireless tech too, but that's advanced."
Tolfdir stopped pacing, eyes locked on mine, a slow smile spreading under his beard. "I… see. So, this electricity… it is natural, yet… harnessed? Like a river, trapped in channels of metal, guided by will and design?"
"Yes! That's… basically it," I said, amazed that a man who lived entirely in the era of wards, staffs, and enchanted crystals could follow. "You can't see it, but you can feel it, hear it, use it. Kind of like how you feel the flow of magic, but… not living, not sentient. Just obeys the rules."
He rubbed his chin, eyes distant, as though picturing invisible rivers running along walls and through stones. "I must… contemplate this further. It is… wondrous. A power of nature, yet not magicka… I wonder… could we… combine it with wards? Perhaps… enhance our enchantments…"
I laughed weakly, still half in shock from being thrown into this world. "Yeah… you could say I'm from a world that runs entirely on this stuff. No magic, just… science. And I guess you could call it magic if you didn't know better."
Tolfdir chuckled softly, leaning on his staff. "Then I am honored to learn from… a scholar of another realm. Electricity… I will ponder its application. But for now… rest. You have endured much, and even knowledge must wait upon strength."
I leaned back against the cot, finally allowing my exhaustion to settle, but a tiny smile tugged at my lips. Somehow, explaining electricity to a centuries-old mage in this land he calls Tamriel… made me feel like maybe, just maybe, surviving this world might be possible.
Outside, the wind howled across the ruins of Winterhold. Inside, for the first time in hours… I felt a strange, improbable warmth.