(From: Chapter One Act Three: Guardians)

Taeyva: Oh, don't pout, Baum.

Taeyva: I'll be back soon. I'm just meeting with Hircine. Now you watch the hut while I'm away, okay?

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(From: Chapter Five Act Five: Incertitude)

Erinye: You’re in charge now. I no longer need the werewolves whereabouts; I just need them distracted. Keep their attention as long as your lives will allow.

Stalf: B-but… We’re outnumbered. We’ll surely perish…

Erinye: I assure you, vampire, perishing at the claws of those beasts is a mercy compared to my hands.

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(From: Chapter Five Act Five: Incertitude)

Malkor: You weren’t scanned by this one. But that doesn’t matter, it won’t attack you.

Dennis: And I can trust your word?

Malkor: See for yourself.

Torund: He seems assured with himself. Is this the fate you’ve been seeking, Castalia?

Castalia: Yes.

Castalia: We’re on the right path now.

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(From: Chapter Five Act Five: Incertitude)

Hircine: I’ve come to speak with you.

Talen is speechless. He knew he wasn’t going to have much time to himself, but this is not how he expected it to be interrupted. By a ghostly elk and a humanoid tree. If he didn’t know any better, he’d be fleeing back to the city, flailing in distress. But he does know better. In fact, he knows exactly who this being is.

Talen: You’re Hircine, aren’t you?

The ghostly visage dips its antlered head, as if bowing.

Hircine: Well met!

Hircine raises his snout, pointing it towards the burly, bark covered creature beside him.

Hircine: You may call this one Baum. But I am sure Taeyva will introduce you.

Talen raises a dubious brow. Hircine’s friendly disposition is inviting but makes him wary. This isn’t the first time a daedra has tried manipulating him. Even so, this is Hircine, Taeyva’s… father? God? He still isn’t sure how this whole prophet thing works.

Talen: Right… Um, why are you here?

Talen winces as the daedra’s ghostly eyes snap towards him.

Hircine: To inform.

Hircine gazes at the mountains in the distance.

Hircine: I have faith in you to achieve victory here. But it is what comes afterwards that will save this world. It is there I must admit, my faith wavers.

Talen listens intently, perplexed. The daedra before him exhibits something he hasn’t seen in other daedra. Apprehension.

Hircine: The divines are gone. To save this world, someone must take their place. Do you understand what I’m saying?

Talen nods.

Talen: You want to take their place. To be worshiped by us. What does this have to do with me?

Hircine: You’ve united these people already, Talen. We need your help to unite them under a new pantheon.

Hircine stares up at him, almost pleadingly. The display of emotion is unbecoming of such a powerful daedra, yet it’s humanizing.

But he still turns away.

Talen: I can’t. I want to believe you. And in fact, I think I do. But you’re expecting too much for one person.

Hircine: You’re not alone, Talen. Taeyva knows of this and will help you.

Talen scoffs at the daedra’s delusions. Has he even been paying attention? It was hard enough for them to even accept Taeyva by herself. But to also start worshiping her god?

 Talen whips around, spewing his disagreement.

Talen: What? Taeyva may be accepted, but that’s it. If she starts insisting they worship you, she’ll be thrown out! Me with her!

Talen cradles his head in his hands, trying to quell his turbulent thoughts. Everything is collapsing on him at once.

Talen: I can’t just… I…

Talen stops himself as the words start of fumble over one another. He takes a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, then slowly releases it.

Talen: Look, you’re asking a lot. Especially now. I may not even survive this whole thing.

A silence draws out as Talen concludes. He peeks at Hircine to see him slowly nodding, acceptingly. As their eyes meet, the daedra gestures to the tree once again.

Hircine: I understand. That is why Baum is here. To protect you.

Talen cranes his head, peering at the lumbering, wooden creature. It’s blank expression gazes into the distance, as if unaware of their presence.

Talen rubs his neck, unsure of how to feel about the gesture.

Talen: Uh, thanks. Does he listen to me or…

His voice trails off at the sound of clanging in the distance. He peers over the ridge, squinting as the sun reflects off the golden hulls of a force of machines stomping towards the city.

Talen gulps at the sight. There’s subtle relief when he makes out Torund, marching in the leading. At least he knows Malkor kept his word. But it isn’t enough to dislodge the lump forming in his throat.

Hircine: You should get back. Tell Taeyva of our conversation. I hope you change your mind.

Torund: I don’t like it, but Malkor seems to have kept his word.

Taeyva’s jaw clenches as she watches the Malkor’s metal army march into the city. There’s nothing Torund can say to lessen her loathing, but she trusts him. If anyone hates Malkor as much as her, it’s Torund. If he says Malkor kept his word, then he must have. But that doesn’t mean she has to like it.

Taeyva: Fine. But you’ll still keep an eye on him.

Torund responds with a concurring huff, returning to his acrid leering.

They aren’t the only two watching the automatons enter the city. A portion of the garrison has gathered before the gates to behold the spectacle. Some onlookers drop their jaws in awe, others clamp them in fright. Hushed discussions of concern and excitement are drowned out by the mechanical stomps and whirs of the machines.

Dennis: Thoughts, Carcette?

To Dennis’ surprise, the keeper shrugs.

Carcette: It’s too late to send them back now. Let’s hope they do their jobs.

Celann: You sure about this, Isran?

Isran: I haven’t been sure of anything in a while now. But I think this is our best shot.

Galmar: Not a sight I thought I’d ever see…

Ulfric: This is a dark day for Skyrim. Let’s pray we live to see the light.

Taeyva finds herself tracing over every automaton that passes her. Searching for a crack or blocked vent, but none show any signs of imperfection. Most of them appear invulnerable. Not even her werewolves could claw through metal that thick. But maybe they won’t have to. There won’t be a need to pierce their hulls if they are dismantled. The joints connecting their limbs and body together hardly have any protection. A bit of force could cleave them apart with ease. As helpful as that will be to destroying them, she may have to remember it to protect them.

Torund: You okay? I can hear you grumbling.

Taeyva: I’m fine. These machines may be more trouble than they are worth.

Taeyva: A smack of a dragon’s tail could easily just-

Taeyva stops. Her eyes snap to gate as a familiar presence stomps into her peripheral vision.

Torund: Wait… Is that…

Taeyva: No way…

Taeyva: Baum!

Malkor has never considered himself devoted to dark elf culture. Growing up under the abusive shadow of his father pushed him away from family ties and the society he knew in Raven Rock. Even in the Cult of Boethiah, he didn’t feel a particular bond beyond that with Val and Nevrenu. It was the closest thing he had to a family, but it never really felt like one.

Yet as he marches through the alleys of the Grey Quarter, Castalia and automatons in tow, he can’t help sympathizing.

So many individual stories, all sharing the same beginning. He wonders if that means there will be a common ending, as well.

Castalia: Malkor?

Her voice sings in his ears. He didn’t realize he had stopped moving.

Malkor sighs. How has he gotten here? How has it that everything he’s done in pursuit of a family, only made him more alone? He spent the last five years in a cave, speaking to corpses and machines. Before that, on a shrouded cliffside with deranged cultists who’d stab him in the back for renown. And even before that, in the corrupt home of a hateful father.

Every step he’s taken dragged him away from the only home he ever had. And he was too stubborn to realize that she was trying to pull him back.

Malkor: Sorry. I... got lost.

Castalia: What do you mean?

Malkor takes a deep breath.

Malkor: I mean that I’m sorry. To you.

He turns to face her, feeling his eyes start to well up. If anyone else were around, he’d immediately squash this emotion. But with Cass, he doesn’t mind.

Malkor: You’ve given me so much. All I’ve ever done is hurt you. I pushed you away because… Because I didn’t know. Anything else, I mean.

Castalia steps closer.

Castalia: Malkor, I-Oh!

He reaches for her, taking her hand and gently tugging her in close. As their bodies touch, he leans forward, pressing his forehead into hers. Castalia’s startled expression fades Malkor softly closes his eyes.

Malkor: Cass… Castalia. I love you. So much more than I could ever express. Without you, I-

Castalia gently tilts her head into his, quieting him.

Castalia: Shhh.

Castalia: Don’t think about that. Just focus on me. See?

Castalia: I love you too, Malkor. Forever and always.

Taeyva: Baum! Oh, I missed you!

Taeyva grins from ear to ear as she wraps her arms around her old, spriggan friend. She was shocked to see him lumbering into the city alongside Talen and wasted no time running up to greet them. After  fawning over him for a few minutes though, she noticed Talen’s apprehensive stare. He requested they go somewhere private and she was quick to agree, though it didn’t dampen her joy. As they made their way to the rear of the city, Taeyva never took a step herself, clinging to Baum’s oaken legs as she swung along with his lumbering footsteps.

Taeyva: Did you watch the hut?

Baum shifts with a grumbling creak as he responds with a drawn out: “MMMmmmmmm!” Talen and Torund share a confused look while Taeyva’s smile widens. She then steps back and sighs, her demeanor suddenly shifted.

With a placid stare, she faces Talen.

Taeyva: So… You spoke to Hircine. I’m sure he told you to speak with me further, yes?

Talen nods, half-heartedly.

Talen: Yes. For one he said Baum is to protect me, which I don’t need an explanation for. But…

He trails off as his gaze falls. A brief silence follows as Taeyva waits for him to collect his thoughts.

Talen: He said after this is all over, we have to worship him. As well as whatever other daedra are with him.

Taeyva shrugs, dismissively.

Taeyva: Well, yeah. Who else were you going to worship?

Talen huffs in response, frustratedly cupping his head in his hands.

Talen: That’s not the point, Taeyva. People won’t just switch sides that easily. We’ll never get enough people to do it for it to work anyway. Even if I wanted this!

Taeyva rubs her chin, ignorant to Talen’s distress. This wasn’t a worry for her until now. She always assumed Hircine’s existing worshipers would amount for enough. But if he told Talen this, then clearly more will need to be swayed. The question is how much?

Taeyva: I see. I don’t know about my abilities to unite people, but you’re proven to be beyond capable. Is this not something you’d be willing to do?

The direct question forces Talen to compose himself. With a sigh, he straightens up, facing away from her.

Talen: I don’t know. I mean, clearly I’m more open towards daedra than most. But direct worship seems… extreme.

Torund: What’s so bad about Hircine? Haven’t we been helpful representers?

Taeyva rolls her eyes at Torund’s retort, though Talen does chime in.

Talen: Well there is the whole forcing people to transform into werewolves and drafting them into your army, sending them to fight for a cause they know nothing about, thing.

Torund: Well, uh… That’s not-

Taeyva holds up her hand, shutting up her uncomfortable companion.

Taeyva: Torund. Please stop.

Torund awkwardly nods as his eyes suddenly lose track of where to look.

Talen: Look, Taeyva, I’m happy to support you. I’ll even vouch for this… religion. But that’s it. Even if I could impose this on people, I wouldn’t. It’s not right.

Taeyva slowly nods but offers him a faint smile.

Taeyva: I think that’s all I can ask for. I only want to guide those willing anyway.

Talen smiles, his shoulders loosening.

Talen: Thanks, Taeyva. So, about Baum, I-

Davey: Hey! Oh… Sorry, am I interrupting?

The three of them turn at Davey’s entrance. Though his words denote slight embarrassment, his posture doesn’t show it as he stands before them beaming with an excited smile. A similar smile immediately stretches across Taeyva as she takes a giddy step forward.

Taeyva: Hi, Davey! Uh, I mean. Hey. No, you’re not interrupting anything. Right, Talen?

She flashes Talen an expectant look, who returns a flabbergasted grimace. He notices her eyebrows flare as he doesn’t respond, and soon after rolls his eyes back to Davey.

Talen: No. I suppose you’re not. What is it?

Davey gestures back the way he came, grinning.

Davey: Your armors are ready.

Oengul: Damn. That’s a lot of timber…

Hermir: I don’t think it’d like you calling it that, but yeah…

Hermir: …I see why they left it outside.

On the Blacksmith Quarter’s second floor, Talen gawks in disbelief. He thought Davey slipped when he said armors plural. But when they sauntered inside, he was immediately greeted by Ambarys and Malthyr, each with a smile beaming as bright as the armor held out in Ambarys’ hands.  They soon after made their way upstairs where Celann and Mike waited. At their invitation, Talen began to don the armor, not noticing Taeyva and Davey slip into the side room.

Talen: This is… incredible. I don’t know what to say.

Talen shakes his head, overwhelmed by the gesture.

Celann: No need to say anything.

Celann manages to pull Talen’s attention away.

Celann: We think it’s pretty clear you’re not some Dawnguard anymore.

Everyone offers a unanimous nod as Ambarys then steps forward.

Ambarys: We wanted to thank you. You’re giving us the chance to finally make our mark on this city. In the battle to come, if you’d have us, we wish to follow you.

Talen’s eyes widen, instinctively, but then soon relax. Words to say slip from his mind as he looks across their hopeful, endearing faces. If they can believe in him this much, then there’s nothing to stop him from doing the same.

Talen nods, resolutely, as their smiles spread further.

Talen: Yes. Of course.

Talen: I’m honored to have you with me in battle.

The room erupts in cheers as they clap their hands and pat one another on the back. Celann cranes around, searching, before he looks back at Torund.

Celann: Where’d Davey and Taeyva go?

* * *

Davey: So, I made it light. Kinda similar to the furs you were wearing.

Davey: I know it’s kind of… well, lacking… But it’s more than those chains offered.

Davey bites his lip, his heartbeat escalating as Taeyva’s silence lingers. She certainly seemed excited to see him and was eager to try on the armor. But that could mean anything. She’s definitely just-

Taeyva: I love it.

Davey gulps.

Davey: You do?

Taeyva offers a tender nod as she hesitantly steps toward him. Davey immediately begins rubbing his neck, unsure of what else to do with his limbs.

Davey: I mean, you don’t have to just say that. Heh. It’s actually poorly done. I messed up a lot and-

Taeyva: Just… shut up. Don’t move.

Davey barely gets a chance to process the interruption as Taeyva scampers up to him and throws her arms around his shoulders. He nearly topples over from surprise, sliding his foot back just in time to keep from falling. The motion was such a blur, he didn’t even notice what she was doing until her lips met his cheek, flushing them into a warm red.

Davey: W-woah! HA! Hey! Did you-

Taeyva pulls away to face him, revealing rosier cheeks than his.

Davey: Did you just kiss me?

She timidly nods, staring into him apprehensively. Her smile doesn’t fade.  

Taeyva: Yeah. That’s… okay?

Davey responds with an incredulous guffaw.

Davey: Ha! Of course it is!

Torund doesn’t bother suppressing the smile as he watches Taeyva. He can’t seem to pull his eyes away. He’s never seen her this happy. Taking a deep breath, Torund relaxes, for what feels like the first time in years. She’s going to be just fine from now on. She doesn’t need him anymore.

Torund: Don’t worry, Celann.

Torund: They’re fine.

  The sun begins to set. The sky darkens in a faded red. An omen to the fire and blood that will bathe Windhelm this night. The final preparations have been made. The walls are enforced, the weapons sharpened. Every soldier has been roused to take their positions in the city’s defense. Those unable to fight have been taken beneath the Palace of the Kings to hide in the prisons, awaiting the battle's conclusion. Those unwilling weren’t given a choice.

Candlehearth Hall, for the first time in years, has been emptied. The once boisterous establishment offers morbid tranquility now. Will this be its final state? Or will it be given the chance to return? Dennis is determined to ensure the latter.

He can hear the sounds of a freshly lit fire, crackling in the heart on the second floor. The floorboards creak under the weight of his heavy feet. He’s nervous. Carcette asked to meet with him before the battle, but she did so hesitantly. As if there was something she was holding back.

He reaches the second floor to find her sitting before the hearth. She doesn’t seem to notice him, her gaze transfixed on the blazing embers.

Dennis: Carcette?

The Keeper of the vigilant flips around with a startled gasp, but soon after smiles. She nods, welcomingly.

Carcette: Dennis, hi. Could you take a seat?

She gestures to the open chair beside her, which he promptly takes. He scoots it further towards the fire, cherishing the open warmth, then faces Carcette.

Their eyes meet briefly before she faces the fire once again.

Carcette: A lot has happened. I’ve been tested and exposed. Things I told myself were impossible occurred before my own eyes.

Carcette: Everything seemed veiled in darkness… or light. There… There was no in-between. Or so I thought.

Dennis remains silent, intent on truly hearing her. Though she is clearly struggling to say what she wants to, she’s determined. He smiles, faintly, as she continues speaking, no longer from her firm beliefs, but instead from her own heart.

Carcette: But you… You always saw the good in others. You were right about Taeyva. All those years ago. You were right to free her. You were right to… to stand up to me.

Dennis chuckles. He did not expect this to happen, and yet he can’t say he is surprised.

Dennis: Heh. Carcette, you’ve been an excellent leader. I’m proud to follow you. If I weren’t, I would’ve remained silent when I thought you made a mistake.

Carcette nods, solemnly, and faces him. The warm glow of the firelight illuminates her face, casting away the dark shadows.

Carcette: Then I’d ask you to continue. As the second Keeper. It’s clear we need to restructure what the Vigilant stands for and I… I can’t do it alone. What do you say?

A whirl of emotions takes Dennis as the question hits him. Shock, happiness, relief; he isn’t sure which one is currently displayed on his face. He blinks, expelling a held breath, and returns a thankful nod.

Dennis: Of course, Carcette. I’m honored.

She laughs, each one filled with relief, as a beaming smile spreads across her.

Carcette: Thank goodness. Because I already informed the rest.

The cold grasp of a falling sun encircles the city of Windhelm. A foreboding chill shivers down the backs of everyone in the city. The soldiers gather before the gate, weapons at their sides, wondering if the frigid steel will be enough. It is no secret what seeks to breach these walls… or fly over them.

Carcette takes her place atop the bridge. It hangs before the main gate, overlooking the men and women who stand ready below. She can see their fear in their eyes and the quivering in their hands, but also the staunchness in their hearts.

Carcette: This is our final stand! I don’t speak to the vigil alone, but to all who have joined arms together!

Carcette: But let this not be our final night. We will achieve victory and never have to stand before anyone else as we reign in a new era!

An invigorated cheer erupts from the soldiers as Carcette thrusts her fist into the air. Before they die down, Ulfric steps forward to speak after her, his voice booming louder than the hoorah’s ever could.

Ulfric: Old friends… Old enemies… We are united now beyond the differences we’ve created! We cannot be held back now!

A thunderous drumming echoes as stormcloaks hammer their weapons against their shields. The Dawnguard soon join along as Isran steps forward.

Isran: We’ve made it this far for a reason. It’s been made clear to those that seek our destruction, bring it upon themselves. Let us teach them that lesson again! One. Last. Time!

The crowd bursts into a cacophony of drumming and roars. Their cries boom throughout the city, lasting for multiple minutes, before it dies down with a wave from Talen. He looks across the soldiers before him, nodding confidently.

Talen: We are no longer separate groups, bound by a need for preservation. We are united, together, by friendship, loyalty, and a common struggle.

Talen: Our enemies have sought to exploit our differences. They thought we could be easily divided.

Talen: But they underestimated us!

Talen: What they thought was our one weakness, turned out to be our best strength.

Talen: Unbreakable bonds tether us together! I don’t need to explain that to you. We’ve all experienced it here, learning and growing with one another.

Talen: And dying with one another, as well.

Talen: We have felt more loss than all of our enemies combined, and yet we still prevail.

Talen: If that isn’t a testament to our coming victory, I don’t know what is. This is our world!

Talen: Let them try to take it!

Erinye smirks as the final cheer emanates from the city, this one even louder than those before it. She can’t help but feel slightly amused at their confidence. They are doomed.

She clutches the soul gem in her hands, feeling Elyvaea’s presence shifting inside. The irony is clear to her, both in her capturing of this soul and what its use will be. She isn’t here to conquer a city. She’s here to slaughter. The world will not fall and Null will be filled. Only a few pesky dragons now stand in her way.

A piercing roar pulls her from her thoughts. It rebounds over the mountains behind her, echoing throughout the valley.

Erinye: Ah, there you are. Just in time.

Erinye: Go on, little Gerruck. Kill just enough of them.

Erinye: Then I can end your suffering.

She turns back to the city and snaps her fingers. A gust of wind billows through her hair as the dragon soars overhead and the rupture of a thousand portals opening resounds behind her. The rumbling of thunderous, rhythmic marching begins as her army materializes onto the snow.

Erinye dons a scowl as she glares back at the city. This is it.

This is the end.

To be continued…