Softly the snowflakes danced towards the ground and then joined the layers of frozen water that already covered not only the mountains but the vast tundra aswell. While the wind softly blew through her hair she motionlessly stared at this land that her ancestors used to avoid due to the harsh cold; now though she had to enter this relentless enviroment in order to preserve the last renmant of her life, the last thing between Nirn and Aetherius she still hold dear.

The wind stopped and the snow peacefully floated downwards now as the woman turned away from the cliff and started to make her way down the mountain and into the province of the former slaves empire. Just thinking about the Empire and what they have done made her angry and brought back old images of the past into her mind. Quickly though she calmed down again and focused on what really mattered now: Staying alive and sane.

Nendala entered Skyrim at the southern border of the province and now followed a road further towards north. In the distance she spotted the gates of a small settlement, but something seemed to be wrong with it. Suddenly a fireball flew through the air paired with loud screams in pain of a mage being pierced by a blade. In fact the closer she got the more clearly she could hear the sound and noise of an ongoing fight. A possible danger that imediately caused her magical aura to stay alert.

Since her awakening and travells that lasted now several centuries her magical capabilities reached higher levels than what the parts of her mind that still were lingering in her body could properly controll. This resulted into a wild flow of magicka that filled her bones and flesh and over the years it became like a loyal pet to her mind; not fully under controll yet hers to command.

The settlements gates were opened widely and on the streets many men and women in uniforms fought with hate and anger against each others. Many corpses already covered the muddy ground but none of the factions wanted to withdraw. In silence Nendala observed the ongoing skrimish, less out of interest for the political strifte that seemed to put this land into war but more out of the simple reason that humans slaughtered and killed each others. A delightful sight.

Even though she did not participate in this battle the soldiers quickly realized she observed them. A Nord wearing mail and scale armor and a blue tabbard stared into her eyes as he slowly came closer: "You there! You are with the Thalmoor, aren't you? You sissy elves have no place here!". The man raised his battle-axe in order to attack Nendala, but an Imperial man tackled him, causing the Nord to drop his axe and tumble to the side.

"Don't drag innocent people into this, Ralof, this fight is between the Legion and rebel scum!", shouted the Imperial as Ralof picked up his axe again.

"Innocent people? This land belongs to the Nord, Hadvar, and you Thalmoor sucking bastards have disgraced mighty Talos by taking away his rightful place next to the other 8 Divines!".

Within the same second the two men started to scream and attack each others, iron kissed iron and two foes joined the battles heat once again. Both Hadvar and Ralof had the fire of anger in their eyes and the flame of coruage in their heart, at this day one should be victorious and the other lying in his own blood. The Imperial aimed for Ralofs legs to make him tremble but the short moment of exposure immediately was turned into a fatal mistake as the battle-axe was swung with force against Hadvars side. Blood gushed from the woond and the Imperial dropped in screams of pain to the ground.

Smiling broadly the Stormcloak pulled out the blade out of the wounded soldier again and then looked at Nendala: "Now is your time to die, elf whore".

He charged at the motionless elf, ready to cleave and slay her with a single blow. Slowly she raised her hand and yellow energy started to pulse through her glove. Shortly before the edge hit her shoulder she layed her hand on Ralof and the energy started to flow through him, freezing his movements completely and slowly raising him off of his feet into the air. Both amazement and fear filled his mind, he never has seen this kind of magic before, but now being the victim of it leaving him completely unable to defend himself was certainly not an easy matter.

With a low and almost broken sounding voice Nendala mumbled her response to his insult: "Obey, slave".

As she finished her sentence Ralof cried loudly due to the massive pain he suffered from as slowly his bones were ripped out of his flesh. Bone by bone he was teared apart and turned into a piece of bloody meat. His eyes were filled with horror as he realized that his skeleton put itself together next to him, slowly turning into a bizarre mirror of his life fading away. Ralofs dead corpse dropped on the ground and the skeleton grabbed his axe, turning around to the battle.

Hadvar couldn't believe his eyes, the sight of skeletons tearing apart the flesh from the dead bodies of the fallen warriors in order to free themselves out of the bloody prison was terrifying, he never witnessed anything similar before; and he never was scared like a little boy like this before. The dead arose everywhere, the overwhelming force of the undead slaying the living men and women one by one, there seemed to be no hope of survival. The living were slaughtered by those who died.

At last Hadvar realized that his bones started to move aswell and slowly made their way out of his body. In his last breath he heard a broken voice echoing in his head: "All will obey".