Everything was impossible.

 

The sky was impossibly clear. The sea was impossibly blue. The Observation Circle at the apex of the College of Winterhold was impossibly beautiful, boasting impossibly bright streamers and impossibly perfect flowers.

 

Aithne was impossibly happy. She had walked through a nightmare to end up in an impossible dream. Archmage Ervine spoke words but Aithne heard them only as if from a distance – all her attention was wrapped up in the orc who faced her with impossibly loving eyes.

 

 The Archmage finished and Aithne had just enough presence of mind to join her husband (husband!) in yelling the traditional Orcish word that finished the binding of two into one: “CHYːASGI!” Forever! Then they kissed, husband and wife, as people cheered and bells rang, impossibly loud and bright, all around them.

 

As the kiss finished, she glanced over the edge of the parapet at the town far below, whose bells had joined in, pealing across the distance in impossibly perfect harmony. She beamed at the town then turned the smile toward her husband (husband!)

 

“That’s so sweet! I didn’t know anyone in town knew about this but they’re ringing bells for us.” Then her smile slid into a frown as she watched Urag’s eyes move from hers to something behind her.

 

“I don’t think those bells are for us.” His voice had become a growl and his expression had turned to something akin to anger. Or fear.

 

Aithne felt frozen in place but forced herself to turn, to follow his gaze. A cry slipped from her lips even as screams began erupting from the crowd. A mass push for the doors commenced as the first dark wave of dragons swooped toward them, fire already spewing from open mouths.

 

Blind panic took hold of Aithne’s mind but her body was already responding, running toward the fire while yelling, “The staff! I need the staff!” She had no idea if her words had been heeded – all her concentration went into Funneling the dragonfire.

 

She had not had time to prepare the proper wards and she screamed as the fire burned through her, but a moment later, the flame was up and out and she cast it back as a flaming sheet of white. It struck the leading dragon and its cry was cut short as its blackened form crumpled and dropped toward the rocky shore far below.

 

Pain infused Aithne. She struggled to fight it, to prepare for the next volley, but it was so hard to think, to breathe, even to see, as…

 

…a breath of relief passed through her. In the space of two heartbeats, the pain was gone and she blinked as J’zargo held out a hand (paw? She still had not got around to asking). She accepted the help up with a nod of thanks and together they faced the next wave of fire even as the first pair hurdled past, chomping and ripping at everything in their path. The platform shook as chunks of stone were torn away.

 

With a little more time, Aithne was able to prepare for the next blast of fire. She slowed it, took it in, filtered it out, and sent it back. A second dragon crumpled, then a third as J’zargo completed his own attack.

 

She laughed. “You’ve been practicing!”

 

“So has every student – and teacher – in the college, had you known to look. But so far only a few…”

 

A pause as they funneled another attack. This time the dragon dodged her response and the fire dissipated with harmless effect into the air beyond.

 

“…have managed to do it.”

 

“Including J’zargo.”

 

“Including J’zargo. Of course, J’zargo had an advantage, as he helped create the technique.”

 

“Helped? As far as I’m concerned, it is your invention!”

 

Whatever the Khajiit said in response was cut off by another attack, and then Aithne felt a tap on her shoulder. Her husband (husband!) stood there with Chtonji in one arm and the Staff of Magnus in the other.

 

“Be careful,” was all he said as he handed her the staff.

 

She smiled, nodded, kissed him, and turned away just as the next volley came toward them. “Okay, bastards, let’s see what you can do against aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!”

 

Her scream cut through the air as fire engulfed her. She dropped to the floor just as the Dragonfire roared across the space she had been standing in. She heard more screaming but everything was a blur of agony and she couldn’t tell if the screams were hers or someone else’s. A moment later, she felt the warmth of healing magic again and came back to her senses.

 

She stared up with wild eyes at J’zargo. Wherever the fire had come from, it hadn’t been from a dragon. “What was that?!”

 

J’zargo didn’t answer – he was looking behind her with an expression she could only translate as abject horror. Once again, she forced her head to turn, though every instinct fought against it. She did not want to see.

 

She had to see.

 

What she saw brought bile to her throat as a long-familiar darkness welled out of her secret places and overwhelmed what remained of her senses.

 

Behind her, the Dragonfire-blackened husks of what remained of her husband and son lay as still as a becalmed ship. Urag’s arms clutched Chtonji tightly to his chest, body huddled as if to protect him, but the fire had been too hot, too close. It had consumed both in an instant.

 

The darkness echoed within her: Your fault your fault your fault.

 

She had been the shield between them, their protector. She had fallen down.

 

Your fault your fault your fault

 

She reached out a hand but could not get herself to finish the gesture. Though her senses informed her there was action all around her, screams and cries of passion and pain, the roaring and wooshing of dragons, people running and fighting, falling and dying, everything seemed frozen in time.

 

Something shook her. She heard her name called out, a desperate plea. She blinked as the world snapped back around her and she looked up with frenetic eyes at J’zargo’s panicked face.

 

“Aithne! The staff! J’zargo knows it hurts and we shall get revenge but we need you now!”

 

The staff. She glanced at it, still clenched in her hand. The darkness swirled but this time took on a new form – no longer a blanket threatening to smother her, but a keen edge that wanted to rip and tear. She stood as the blackness welled up, gathered in her chest, and burst out.

 

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

 

Then everything was fire; dragons snorted flame in all directions but she pulled it to her, all of it. From all around the College and even around the town, Aithne and the staff claimed the deadly breaths of every dragon, then cast them back as sizzling bolts of pure white power that tore through dragon skin like paper. They dropped from the sky, one by one, then in numbers, then in droves. The attacks ceased to be scattered – aware of their deadly opponent, the dragons gathered, shot toward her as one group. It only made it easier to kill them; white lighting shot from the staff and hit the first then extended to the next and the next and the next until the entire mass was connected and their flight halted, their bodies plummeting as if they were one singular creature.

 

A cheer rose, then froze as the multi-dragon-dragon crashed as one mass onto and then through the narrow bridge that was the College’s only connection to the mainland. As the bodies thudded one after another into the surf beyond, the cheers started again, but this time riddled with gasps and laughter and shouts.

 

None of it mattered to Aithne. Her mind was still full of black anger, an eternally hungry predator seeking more to devour. When she felt a soft touch on her shoulder, she whipped around and nearly disintegrated Brelyna, but her friend had been prepared and Aithne’s flame merely dissipated along her ward.

 

“It is okay.” Brelyna held out a hand as Onmund and J’zargo approached from the far side of the roof. ”It is over.”

 

Brelyna’s words seemed to act like shears to the darkness, snipping it just below where the anger began. The anger, like the fire, dissipated, leaving only the familiar empty blackness of the void. Aithne felt suddenly exhausted and dropped to her knees, her tear-ridden eye locked on the remains of her family as the darkness howled in despair within.

 

No matter what Brelyna said, it was not okay.

 

Everything was impossible.

 

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