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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"I can feel it," Aeloria announced, her voice thrumming with a quiet, ancient resonance that had not been there before the battle. She looked directly at Aerion, a massive smile splitting her face. "The word we found up in the mountains of the Pale... in the cavern inside Ustengrav. The magic was hollow before, but the soul I just absorbed... it filled the word perfectly." She lowered her hand, her eyes shining with absolute certainty. "I can unlock it now," Aeloria declared. "I know exactly how to shout the Word of Life."
The swirling, golden energy of Sahloknir's soul finally settled, absorbing completely into Aeloria's chest. The violent winds that had whipped the dirt of the ancient burial mound died down, leaving behind an eerie, heavy quiet that felt entirely out of place after the deafening roars of the dragon.
Aerion stood a few paces away, his dark robes settling around his boots. He looked at the Dragonborn, noting the sudden clarity in her bright blue eyes.
"If you truly understand the Word," Aerion suggested smoothly, his voice a calm anchor amidst the lingering adrenaline, "then you should test it immediately. Use the Shout. It is vastly better to understand exactly how the magic manifests now, rather than fumbling with an unknown power in the middle of a hostile crypt later."
Aeloria nodded her head in agreement. She rolled her heavy steel shoulders, setting her stance. She didn't feel the burning, explosive pressure in her lungs like she did with the Unrelenting Force. This new magic felt entirely different. It felt subtle, almost cool to the touch within her mind.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the draconic concept she had absorbed from the wall in Volunruud that she thought as Ustengrav, now fully unlocked by the soul of the bronze dragon.
"Laas," Aeloria whispered.
It wasn't a booming roar. It was a sharp, carrying hiss that slipped through her teeth, barely louder than the rustling of the autumn pine needles.
The moment the syllable left her lips, the physical reality of the world around her fundamentally changed. Aeloria gasped, her eyes snapping wide open.
To everyone else standing in the clearing, absolutely nothing had happened. There was no shockwave, no fire, no blinding light.
But from Aeloria's point of view, the mundane world had been aggressively muted into dull, washed out shades of gray and blue. And standing out violently against that gray backdrop were brilliant, pulsing auras of vibrant red and burning orange.
"By the Divines," Aeloria exclaimed, her voice filled with sheer, unfiltered amazement. She looked directly at Aerion, Valdemar, Lydia, Jenassa, and Delphine.
Each of them was completely enveloped in a glowing, ethereal fire that pulsed in perfect rhythm with their beating hearts. She looked down at her boots, seeing the small, bright red aura of Lupin the fox curled up nearby.
"What is it? What do you see, Thane Aeloria?" Valdemar asked, gripping his sword tightly, slightly unnerved by her wide eyed stare.
"I can see your life," Aeloria breathed, stepping forward and looking around the clearing. "It's like a glowing fire outlining your bodies. I can see your heartbeats."
To test the absolute limits of the magic, Aeloria pointed toward the massive, bleached white ribcage of Sahloknir resting heavily upon the dirt.
"Valdemar," Aeloria instructed quickly. "Go stand behind the dragon's bones. Quickly, before it fades."
The Housecarl didn't question the order. He immediately jogged around the massive, multi ton skeleton, placing the thick, impenetrable wall of dense dragon bone completely between himself and the Dragonborn.
"Are you in position?" Aeloria called out.
"I am, my Thane! I am directly behind the spine!" Valdemar shouted back, entirely hidden from mundane sight.
Aeloria laughed, a bright, joyous sound of pure discovery. "I can see you perfectly! The bones are just gray shadows to me, but your aura is shining right through them like a beacon. You're shifting your weight onto your left leg, and you have your hand resting on your sword pommel."
From behind the massive skeleton, Valdemar let out a loud, astonished bark of laughter. "She speaks the absolute truth! By the Eight, that is terrifyingly useful."
The entire strike team murmured in genuine amazement. A magic that completely bypassed solid physical cover to reveal the exact position of living targets was a tactical advantage of unimaginable value. An ambush against the Dragonborn was now functionally impossible.
After about a minute, the dull gray wash of the world slowly receded from Aeloria's vision. The vibrant, glowing red auras faded into nothingness, and the natural, late afternoon colors of the Kynesgrove hills returned.
She blinked a few times, shaking her head to clear the slight dizziness.
"It's gone," Aeloria reported, leaning her Axe of Morthal against a nearby rock. "But I understand how it works now."
With the immediate threat of Alduin gone and Sahloknir permanently reduced to a pile of bones, the adrenaline finally crashed. Aeloria let out a long, heavy sigh, walking slowly toward the massive remains of the beast.
She ran a heavy steel gauntlet gently over one of the massive, bleached white ribs. The bone was incredibly dense, completely smooth, and still radiating a faint, residual warmth.
During the chaotic aftermath at the Western Watchtower, she hadn't truly been granted the time to examine her kill. She had been immediately swept up by the Whiterun guards and rushed back to Dragonsreach for political debriefings.
Now, standing in the quiet clearing, the sheer, impossible scale of the myth she had just slain fully settled in.
"So," Aeloria asked quietly, turning her head to look at the High Elf who had so flawlessly orchestrated their survival. "Kynesgrove is saved. The black dragon is gone, and this one is dead. What exactly do we do now, Aerion?"
Aerion stepped forward, his golden eyes sweeping over the massive skeleton and the thick piles of incredibly durable, heavy bronze scales scattered across the scorched earth. His scholarly facade seamlessly merged with his ruthless mercantile pragmatism.
"What we do now, Aeloria," Aerion stated smoothly, gesturing to the remains, "is secure the spoils of war. We are going to bring every single ounce of these bones and scales directly back to my homestead."
Jenassa, who had been quietly retrieving her steel arrows from the dirt, paused and looked up at him. The assassin rarely questioned her patron's logic, but the sheer physics of his request forced her to speak.
"Patron," Jenassa noted dryly, raising an eyebrow. "I am absolutely certain those materials are worth a king's ransom on the black market. But look at the size of that skull. A single rib likely weighs more than Valdemar's entire suit of armor. How exactly do you propose we transport a literal mountain of dragon bone across the province?"
"We are not going to carry it upon our backs, Jenassa," Aerion replied, a calm, highly calculated smile touching his lips. He had already formulated the entire logistical supply chain in his mind.
He turned his gaze toward the two heavily armored Nords standing nearby.
"We are going to utilize the existing infrastructure of Eastmarch," Aerion explained. "Bjorlam is currently waiting with his carriage down on the main road. I am going to dispatch Lydia and Valdemar to rendezvous with him. They will take Bjorlam, drive a few miles north into the capital city of Windhelm, and they will utilize my gold to actively hire a heavy transport caravan. Three wagons will not be enough for this haul. They will need to secure six or seven heavy mining carts, along with their drivers, to haul this material out of Ulfric's territory and back to the safety of our palisades."
The sheer audacity and massive scale of the logistical operation caused the group to slowly nod their heads in collective agreement. It was expensive, tedious, and highly conspicuous, but it was the only realistic, mundane way to move a dead dragon.
Aerion didn't waste another second. He seamlessly reached his right hand beneath the flap of his dark leather satchel, mentally connecting to his infinite digital void.
He pulled his hand out, holding a massive, incredibly heavy leather pouch that clinked loudly with the unmistakable sound of a small fortune of 1,000 septims.
"Lydia," Aerion called out.
The Housecarl turned just in time to catch the heavy pouch as Aerion tossed it through the air. She grunted slightly as the heavy gold hit her steel breastplate.
"There are one thousand septims in that pouch," Aerion commanded crisply. "You and Valdemar are to head down the hill immediately. Find Bjorlam on the main road. Ride with him into Windhelm. Pay whatever exorbitant rates the local teamsters demand to secure six heavy transport wagons. Once you have the caravan, Bjorlam will guide you all back here to this burial mound to begin the loading process."
"It will be done, Thane Aerion," Lydia saluted, immediately securing the massive pouch of gold to her heavy leather belt.
"Leave one of the heavy supply backpacks here with us," Aerion added. "The loading process will likely take the entirety of the night, and we require provisions while we maintain the perimeter."
Valdemar quickly unbuckled his massive leather pack, setting it heavily on the dirt near the High Elf, before falling into step beside Lydia. The two Whiterun Housecarls turned and marched rapidly away from the burial mound, heading down the steep, winding dirt path toward the main highway, leaving Aerion, Aeloria, Jenassa, Delphine, and the fox behind to guard the kill.
With the immediate tactical and logistical matters settled, the remaining group finally allowed themselves to sit down.
Jenassa dragged the heavy supply pack over to a large, flat rock near the edge of the tree line. She opened it, passing out the thick, reinforced waterskins and the remaining strips of heavily salted venison.
Aerion took his portion, sitting gracefully upon a smooth stone, his dark robes entirely unbothered by the dirt. He ate in complete, calculating silence, his golden eyes casually tracking the spymaster.
Delphine sat a few feet away, her hands trembling slightly as she uncorked a waterskin. She took a long, deep pull of the water, her sharp eyes repeatedly darting toward the towering Nord woman sitting across from her.
After the defeat of the Empire, the Blades had been a broken, scattered remnant, hunted like animals by the Thalmor, clinging desperately to ancient prophecies that seemed like nothing more than dust and fairy tales. But today, Delphine had witnessed the impossible. She had watched a mortal woman channel the voice of the gods, strike down an ancient wyrm, and literally consume its soul in a blinding flash of divine light.
"It's... it's absolutely incredible," Delphine murmured, her voice entirely stripped of its usual, cynical edge. She looked directly at Aeloria, genuine, profound awe shining in her weathered eyes. "I have read the texts. I have studied the Akaviri histories my entire life. But to actually see the Dragonborn absorb the soul of a slain beast with my own two eyes... I honestly didn't expect that such a thing could truly be possible in this era."
Aeloria swallowed a bite of the tough venison, offering the older woman a tired, yet deeply resolute smile.
"I feel the same way," Aeloria admitted, looking down at her gauntleted hands. "A few weeks ago, I was just worrying about paying my tavern tab. Now... I can feel the ancient magic burning in my blood."
Aeloria looked up, her bright blue eyes hardening with a fierce, absolute sense of duty that transcended simple survival.
"But the awe has passed for me," Aeloria stated firmly, her voice carrying the heavy weight of a leader who finally understood her burden. "Seeing that black dragon resurrect this one... it changes everything. My purpose isn't just to survive anymore. My purpose is to actively hunt them down and stop this madness."
She gestured toward the distant, snowy peaks of Eastmarch, where the civil war raged.
"Skyrim is already bleeding to death," Aeloria said, her tone filled with genuine sorrow for her homeland. "The Empire and the Stormcloaks are butchering each other in the mud over politics and pride. The people are suffering enough. We absolutely do not need ancient, immortal dragons returning to the skies to wreck even more havoc upon the innocent. I have to stop them."
Delphine listened to the Dragonborn's speech, slowly nodding her head in profound agreement. The girl possessed the right spirit. She had the heart of a warrior and the necessary conviction to wage a holy war.
But as Delphine's eyes drifted slightly to the right, catching sight of the towering High Elf and the lethal Morag Tong assassin quietly eating their rations in the shadows... her deep-seated paranoia flared back to life.
Aerion was chewing his food methodically, his flawless face completely unreadable. Jenassa was casually sharpening a steel dagger against a whetstone, acting as if she hadn't just helped slay a mythological god. They were vastly too calm. They were entirely too competent. And they were actively monopolizing the Dragonborn's loyalty.
Delphine knew that if she wanted to properly guide Aeloria, if she wanted to utilize the Dragonborn to rebuild the ancient, glorious order of the Blades and strike back against their enemies, she had to isolate the girl from these dangerous, unpredictable outlanders.
Delphine cleared her throat softly, shifting her posture to look exclusively at Aeloria, entirely ignoring the others.
"Aeloria," Delphine asked, her voice dropping into a low, confidential whisper intended to project intimacy. "I have things I need to tell you. Deep, highly sensitive intelligence regarding the true nature of this threat. Could... could the two of us perhaps take a walk down the path for a moment? I would very much like to speak with you in private."
Before Aerion could even open his mouth to shut the transparent maneuver down, Aeloria frowned, shaking her head firmly.
The Dragonborn was loyal to a fault, and she deeply disliked the concept of secret whispers when her comrades had just bled beside her in the dirt.
"There is absolutely no need for that, Delphine," Aeloria replied, her voice loud and clear, completely rejecting the offer of privacy. She gestured openly toward the High Elf and the assassin. "You can speak freely right here. Aerion and Jenassa are my friends. They have protected me, guided me, and fought dragons alongside me. They are people I trust with my life. There are no secrets between us."
Delphine's jaw tightened imperceptibly. This was exactly what she had feared. The High Elf had already completely entrenched himself in the Dragonborn's inner circle.
If she dumped the highly classified secrets of the Blades in front of this Altmer, she instantly lost all leverage. She would surrender the absolute upper hand she needed to control the narrative and position her defunct faction as the premier guiding force for the savior of Skyrim.
She needed the Blades to stand beside, or ideally, slightly above, the Dragonborn they were historically sworn to serve, just as they had in the Septim Empire. If this hyper intelligent mage was involved, her plans would fail.
Delphine desperately tried to pivot, throwing out psychological bait to change the girl's mind.
"I understand your loyalty to your companions, Aeloria," Delphine pressed, leaning in closer, her voice urgent. "But you do not understand the sheer scale of the shadow war being fought in this province. The intelligence I hold is strictly eyes only. Lives are at stake. Entire networks could be compromised if the wrong ears hear what I have to say. It is for their safety as much as yours that we speak alone."
Aeloria crossed her arms over her heavy steel breastplate, entirely unmoved by the dramatic spy rhetoric. She wasn't taking the bait.
But it wasn't Aeloria who delivered the killing blow to the spymaster's gambit.
"If you do not wish to share your precious secrets with the group, innkeeper," Aerion's melodic, chillingly calm voice cut through the air like a razor, "then I highly suggest you simply keep your mouth shut."
Delphine flinched, her head snapping toward the High Elf.
Aerion had stopped eating. He was staring at her, his golden eyes radiating an aura of absolute, crushing condescension. He didn't just kick the bait away, he actively, effortlessly stomped it into the dirt.
"The more you attempt to isolate Aeloria with these pathetic, transparent espionage tactics," Aerion continued smoothly, casually dusting his hands off on a linen cloth, "the more you actively validate my initial suspicions. It proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that you harbor deep, ulterior motives regarding the Dragonborn. You do not want to protect her, you want to isolate her so you can manipulate her."
Aerion leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, holding the spymaster in a terrifying, unbreakable gaze.
"So, here is the reality of your situation," Aerion declared, leaving absolutely zero room for negotiation. "You will either lay your cards entirely on the table right here, right now, in front of the people who actually kill the dragons... or you can take your little secrets, walk back down the hill, and go back to pouring ale in Riverwood. The choice is entirely yours."
Delphine actually choked on her next breath.
She was completely cornered. The Altmer had brutally stripped away every single layer of her operational security. He had called her bluff with terrifying precision. She looked at Aeloria, hoping for intervention, but the Dragonborn simply watched her, waiting for the truth.
If Delphine walked away now, she would permanently lose the only living Dragonborn on the continent. Her life's work, the resurrection of her ancient order, would be reduced to ash. She had absolutely no choice.
Delphine let out a long, shuddering, defeated sigh, her shoulders slumping as the heavy mantle of the spymaster finally cracked.
"Fine," Delphine whispered bitterly, staring into the dying embers of a nearby scorched log.
She tentatively looked back up at Aeloria, the layers of deception finally peeling away to reveal the exhausted, desperate fanatic beneath.
"I am not just an innkeeper," Delphine confessed, her voice trembling slightly with the weight of her own history. "I am one of the very last surviving members of an order called the Blades."
Aeloria frowned, tilting her head. "The Blades? I've never heard of them."
"You wouldn't have," Delphine replied with a humorless, tragic smile. "We were forced into the shadows a for quite some time. But we are a group that was forged in the absolute fires of the ancient eras. Long before the Empire fell, the Blades were the premier dragonslayers of Tamriel."
Delphine straightened her posture slightly, a flicker of fierce, ancient pride reigniting in her weathered eyes as she looked directly at the Dragonborn. "And more importantly," Delphine revealed, her voice dropping into a tone of absolute, sworn reverence, "we were the elite, sworn protectors of the Dragonborn emperors. For centuries, the two titles were synonymous. Where the Dragonborn walked, the Blades followed."
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[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 540/540 Stamina: 560/560 Magicka: 750/750
Level: 158
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Dragon Master (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+3)/Lightning(+1)/Frost(+1)) (Level 67/92/56), Restoration (Healing(+1)/Purify(+2)) (Level 52/50), Alteration (Level 35), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/38), Persuasion(+1) (Level 89), Smithing (Level 22), Sneak (Level MAX), One Handed(+1) (Level 72), Two Handed (Level 81), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting (Level 66), Light Armor(+1) (Level 18), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus Roh Dah (Force Balance Push), Tiid (Time), Krii (Kill), Feim Zii (Fade Spirit), Su (Air), & Laas (Life)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Small Sack, Poacher's Axe, Mammoth Tusk, the Golden Claw, Calm Spellbook, Arvel's Journal, Inkwell & Quill, Thief Book, Scroll Of Summoning (Wolf), Scroll Of Healing, Weak Potion of Paralysis, Golden Staff of Flames, Parchment Rolls Of Mammoths Farm And Loan, Ebony Claw, Orcish Dagger, Jagged Crown, The Mirror, Ring of Pure Mixtures, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Reanimate Corpse Tome, Staff of Lightning, Deed to Tundra Homestead, Sapphire, Ruby, Dawnbreaker, Traveling Backpack (Supplies), Potion of Minor Magicka, Vampire Armor, Vampire Boots, Movarth's Golden Ash (Unique), Dwarven Sword, Hide Boots Of Sneak, Gold Ruby Ring of Fortify Magicka, Iron Garnet Ring of Fortify Conjuration & Magicka Regen, Elven Dagger, Potion of Healing, Honed Ancient Nord Sword of Sparks, Gold Emerald Circlet, & Scroll of Fire Storm, Ring of Archery,Hide Boots of Stamina, Ancient Nord Sword of Absorbing, Iron Garnet Circlet, Iron Sapphire Circlet, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Glass Boots, Dwarven Sword, & Dwarven Shield
2x Common Soul Gem (Empty), Black Soul Gem (Empty), Elven Sword, Amethysts, Potions of Plentiful Magicka, Scroll of Conjure Familiar, & Scroll of Magelight
3x Glowing Mushrooms, Potions of Minor Stamina, Flawless Sapphires, Gold Necklace, Iron Necklace, Petty Soul Gem (Filled), & Potions of Minor Magicka
4x Spider Eggs, Garnets, & Common Soul Gem (Filled)
5x Lesser Soul Gem (Filled)
7x Vampires Dust
8x Iron Arrows & Ancient Nord Arrows
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
12x Black Soul Gem (Filled)
Weight: 95.21 KG / 580 KG
Septims: 82,177