The Storm Coast did not welcome visitors.
It endured them.
Wind moved like a living thing across the cliffs, dragging salt and the smell of old wreckage with it. Waves struck the rocks below with the patience of something that had been doing this long before kingdoms had names.
Ciri was not there.
And the absence was noticeable.
Elyanna felt it in the way the group moved — more deliberate, more formal. No sudden challenges to her orders. No sharp Imperial defiance at her side.
Just the mission.
They found the hut half-swallowed by grass and leaning toward the sea as if trying to escape the land.
The door hung open.
Sofia wrinkled her nose the moment they stepped inside.
"Dead," she said. "Very dead. Very unpleasantly dead."
The merchant lay on the floor beside a table, one arm twisted beneath him, eyes open wide enough to show the whites all the way around.
No blood.
No visible wound.
Just terror frozen into his face.
Solas crouched beside the body, studying it without touching.
"Not a natural death," he said quietly. "But not a simple murder either."
Inigo moved to the shadows first.
Always the shadows.
"My friend," he murmured, "you were right to be afraid."
Elyanna turned.
"You see something."
"I see the lack of something," Inigo replied. "No struggle. No overturned furniture. No attempt to flee. He died where he stood… because whatever came for him did not need to chase."
The wind pushed through the broken wall planks, lifting loose pages across the floor.
Sofia caught one under her boot.
"Journal."
She picked it up, glanced at Elyanna, then began to read.
At first her tone was mocking.
Then it changed.
"I should not have bought it.
Since that day I feel watched.
Not by men.
By something that stands where the light is not.
When I turn, it is gone.
When I sleep, I hear breathing that is not mine."
.
Solas stepped closer.
"Continue."
Sofia swallowed.
"This scroll is cursed.
I will not keep it near me.
I buried the half in the Storm Coast.
Let the sea take it.
Let whatever follows me stay with it."
The last line was not written.
"It had been carved into the page hard enough to tear the parchment.
IT IS HERE."
The hut fell silent except for the wind.
Elyanna felt the Anchor pulse once — not violently, not like the red rift.
But in recognition.
"Venatori?" she asked.
Solas shook his head.
"No. This fear is older than them."
Inigo had moved to the back wall.
"There is a map."
They gathered around the small table.
Storm Coast.
A charcoal circle marked across a wide stretch of land — not a point.
A search area.
Not a destination.
"He did not know where he buried it," Elyanna said.
"He knew," Solas replied, "that he wanted distance between himself and it."
Sofia leaned over the map.
"That's a lot of ground."
Inigo's tail flicked slowly.
"And a lot of places for something to watch from."
Elyanna straightened.
"We move."
They had not yet reached the marked area when the wind changed.
Not direction.
Weight.
The air grew warmer.
Brighter.
Solas stopped mid-step.
The Fade was not touching this.
Something else was.
The clouds parted without moving.
Light spilled downward in a perfect column ahead of them, striking the earth like a blade.
Inigo shielded his eyes.
"My friends," he said carefully, "I believe we are no longer alone."
At the center of the radiance stood a woman in white.
Not simply white cloth — white like polished bone, like marble under sunlight.
Around her, men dug into the ground with desperate speed, throwing soil aside with bleeding hands.
"Faster," she said without looking at them. "You are filth, but you are useful filth."
Her voice carried the same tone as the Beacon.
Recognition struck all four of them at once.
She turned.
Her gaze passed over Elyanna.
Paused on Solas.
Slide past Sofia.
And then—
Locked onto Inigo.
Her expression transformed instantly.
Delight.
"Ah!" she declared, pointing at him as if she had discovered a long-lost tool.
"Mortal Khajiit. Come. Help me shovel this pit."
Sofia choked.
Elyanna closed her eyes briefly.
Solas stared at the woman with something between horror and scholarly fascination.
Inigo looked at his hands.
Then at the shovel one of the exhausted men dropped at his feet.
"My life," he said softly, "has taken many unexpected turns."
The light intensified.
The ground waited.
And somewhere beneath the Storm Coast…
half an Elder Scroll slept.