Haunting Past

By the time Eradros and Kinetrius reached Whiterun, the midday sun hung high, casting warm light over the bustling city. The streets thrummed with energy, alive with merchants, travelers, and townsfolk still reveling in the Companions’ recent triumph over the giant. It was as if the entire city had come together to celebrate, showering the warriors with cheers and admiration.

Kinetrius had never seen anything like it. The Companions weren’t just respected—they were revered, walking through the streets like legends come to life. Compared to the small villages he had known, Whiterun was enormous. Stone-paved roads twisted between sturdy homes, separated by high walls that guided the flow of people. At the heart of the city stood a towering tree, its vibrant golden leaves swaying gently in the breeze. Water streamed down from the grand palace at the city’s peak, cascading along man-made channels until it reached the tree’s base, where it pooled before flowing beyond the city walls.

For a moment, it was all a bit overwhelming. But the warmth of the people, the sheer life of the city, put him at ease.

He and Eradros walked alongside the Companions, occasionally pausing as Aela pointed out landmarks of interest. Kinetrius absorbed every word, still riding the excitement of witnessing the Companions in battle. He had no doubt they could face anything in Skyrim and emerge victorious.

They had nearly reached the steps of the Jarl’s palace when a voice called out from above.

“Eradros? By the Nine, is that really you?”

Eradros turned at the sound, his expression shifting from calm indifference to wary surprise. A woman stood midway up the palace steps, clad head to toe in gleaming steel plate armor. The way she carried herself, poised with confidence and authority, suggested she was no ordinary soldier.

For a beat, Eradros said nothing. He hadn’t expected to see a familiar face in Whiterun—certainly not hers. And from the look on his face, he wasn’t exactly pleased about it either.

The woman arched a brow. “Well, don’t just stand there staring at me. Aren’t you going to say something?”

Eradros exhaled through his nose. “Minevi… It’s been a while. Definitely wasn’t expecting to bump into you here of all places.”

Minevi was every bit a Nord—fierce, resilient, and as striking as she was strong. There was no doubt she and Eradros shared history, though whatever lay between them wasn’t something he seemed keen to discuss.

Kinetrius watched the exchange in quiet curiosity. He didn’t know much about Eradros beyond what little he had observed, and now, here was someone who might actually know him. This was a rare opportunity to learn something about the man he had come to trust.

Minevi, on the other hand, seemed genuinely pleased to see him, either unaware or unconcerned with his lack of enthusiasm. She strode a few steps closer, her armor clanking softly as she moved.

“It’s been cycles since last I saw you,” she said before her gaze flickered to Kinetrius. “And you have a child with you… What, pray tell, is this all about?”

“It’s a long story,” Eradros replied. “And I’d love to share it, but we already promised it to the Companions later on. The lad and I need to speak to the Jarl—immediately.”

Minevi’s expression shifted slightly. “Sorry, my friend… The Jarl’s busy with politics and the like. Doesn’t want to be disturbed at the moment.”

Eradros frowned. “Wait, wait… You’re working for the Jarl of Whiterun now? Last time we spoke, you were a grunt in the Imperial Army.”

“I’m here on Imperial business, actually.” She folded her arms across her chest. “The Empire wants to extend a hand to Whiterun—help with protecting the borders and trade routes.”

“You mean control them,” Eradros muttered.

Minevi’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that…”

“You still don’t trust them, is it?”

Eradros scoffed. “I trust the Empire to be the Empire.”

Minevi sighed. “They only wish peace for Skyrim, Eradros… Why do you think I joined?”

“For an excuse to prove your strength to men who wouldn’t fight beside you, maybe… But what do I know?”

A flicker of frustration crossed Minevi’s face, but she didn’t seem surprised. If anything, she looked used to these kinds of responses from him. Despite the tension, there was something almost familiar in the way they argued—like an old song played out too many times.

Minevi descended the steps, stopping just before Eradros. She looked him over with an appraising gaze, the way a mother might examine a reckless child who had come home covered in bruises. Eradros shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. To him, her stare was the midday sun, and he was a vampire caught beneath it.

“I’m not going to ask you to trust the Empire, love,” she said at last. “But I would like to think you know I only want what’s best for Skyrim.”

Eradros’s expression darkened. “I’m not the one who needs to hear that. Maybe try telling that to the Nords who get trampled in the Empire’s wake.” He shook his head. “You know what, Minevi? I really don’t have time to argue politics with you. There’s a much bigger problem facing Skyrim right now.”

Minevi studied him for a moment, then softened. “Eradros… My apologies. It wasn’t my intent to get into all of that with you.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Pray, what manner of problem has got you so worked up?”

He exhaled, forcing himself to calm down. “A few days ago… in Helgen… there was an attack.”

Minevi frowned. “We received word of that just yesterday. The locals even claim they saw a dragon flying away from the area. Can you believe what people will come up with?” She chuckled lightly, waiting for them to join in.

Neither Eradros nor Kinetrius so much as cracked a smile.

Minevi’s amusement faded. Her gaze flickered toward the boy, taking in the bandages wrapped around him. He had clearly suffered great injuries, but… from a dragon? Surely not.

Eradros’s voice was firm. “I’m afraid the locals aren’t making this up, Minevi. The lad and I… we were there. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen—the destruction, the carnage.”

Minevi hesitated, but her skepticism remained. “Eradros, you don’t actually expect me to believe—”

“What else could have destroyed an entire town in minutes?” he cut in sharply. “I saw it with my own eyes. Even faced off with the creature to save the kid. I don’t know how, or where it came from… but it’s as real as you and I are right now.” He stepped closer, his voice low and serious. “We need to see the Jarl. The neighboring towns are vulnerable to another attack. Surely he can pull his head out of the Empire’s ass long enough to hear the plea of his people.”

Minevi held his gaze, searching for any sign of exaggeration or falsehood. She found none.

She looked to Kinetrius, then back to Eradros. He was many things—cynical, frustrating, stubborn—but he was no liar.

A new weight settled over her as she realized the gravity of the situation. The city’s celebration, the people’s joy… none of them knew what had truly happened. Or what could happen next.

“If what you say is true…” She exhaled. “Then this matter cannot be ignored.”

Stepping aside, she motioned toward the palace doors.

“I’m sure the Jarl will want to hear about this,” she said, then added with a smirk, “And if he doesn’t… we’ll make him listen.”

Eradros raised an eyebrow. “You sure about this? The Empire wouldn’t like you stirring trouble.”

Minevi’s expression hardened. “I joined the Imperial Army to help bring peace to Skyrim. If they prove a hindrance to that end… then they’re just in my way.”

Eradros smirked. “Heh. Fair enough.”

Together, the three of them ascended the long steps toward Dragonsreach.

[Meanwhile]

Near the entrance of Whiterun, the rhythmic clang of metal rang through Adrianne Avenicci’s blacksmith shop. The scent of iron and burning coals filled the air as she worked, tending to orders and maintaining her tools. She was so absorbed in her tasks that she barely registered the sound of the front door swinging open.

“Just one moment!” she called over her shoulder, not bothering to look up. “Putting some things away, I’ll be right with you.”

A slow, honeyed voice answered.

“Oh, take your time, deary… We aren’t going anywhere until we get what we’re looking for.”

There was something off about the way he spoke—mocking, almost polite, but with an edge of something far darker. Adrianne hesitated, her fingers tightening around the hammer she had been putting away. Something in her gut twisted.

She stepped out from behind the forge, wiping her hands on her apron. The moment she laid eyes on the two men standing before her, her breath hitched.

They were dressed in flowing orange robes, their faces entirely obscured by smooth, expressionless masks. The air in the room suddenly felt colder, despite the forge burning behind her.

A sense of unease crawled up her spine.

One of them, the one who had spoken, leaned casually against the counter. The other had already begun wandering the shop, running gloved fingers along the wooden shelves as if browsing.

The first man tilted his head. “No need to trouble yourself too much, love. My companion and I would simply like to ask you a question or two. I hope you’d indulge a couple of wayward strangers, hmm?”

Adrianne’s brows furrowed. “Is this some kind of joke? How did you even get into the city dressed like that? Where are the guards?”

The second masked man let out a quiet chuckle as he trailed a hand along a row of tools hanging from the wall. Small flames flickered from his fingertips, trailing over the wood like an artist painting destruction.

“You shouldn’t worry yourself with them,” the first man said smoothly. “They’re a bit… preoccupied with all the excitement in the city at the moment.”

The flames caught. Embers spread across the shelves in thin, hungry veins before bursting into full flame.

Adrianne’s eyes widened in horror. “Wait! What are you doing?!”

The first man snapped his fingers sharply, irritation creeping into his tone.

“I need you to focus, my dear.” His voice was still light, but there was no warmth in it. “The question I’m about to ask you is a matter of life or death, you see. I’m looking for an adolescent Redguard child, traveling with a Wood Elf man. Have you seen them in town by chance?”

Adrianne’s heart pounded. The heat from the fire licked at the shop, spreading faster than she could process.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, fear creeping into her voice.

The second masked man ignored her, his hand sweeping over another wall. More flames roared to life, leaping hungrily to anything that would burn. The fire reflected in the glossy sheen of their masks, distorting their features into something inhuman.

Adrianne took a step back, then another. She turned to bolt through the back door, but her foot caught on a crate she had left near the counter. She crashed to the ground with a yelp, landing hard against the wooden floor.

The fire spread in all directions, smoke curling toward the ceiling. Heat pressed in from all sides, choking, suffocating.

Outside, voices rose in alarm.

“Mrs. Avenicci!” A muffled shout came from beyond the door, followed by the heavy pounding of fists. “Are you in there?! We see smoke!”

The guards.

Adrianne turned toward the front, hope flaring in her chest, but the door remained sealed. The masked men had barred it, trapping her inside.

Through the haze of smoke and flame, the first masked man stepped forward, crouching in front of her.

“You’re trembling,” he noted with amusement. Slowly, he raised a hand. Frost gathered at his fingertips, swirling in delicate spirals. In seconds, the air between them turned frigid, forming into a jagged icicle—the sharp point hovering mere inches from her throat.

Adrianne flinched, her breath hitching.

“I’m a bit short on patience, love,” he said, his voice almost disappointed. “So, I’ll ask once more… Wood Elf man. Redguard boy. Have you seen them?”

Her mouth went dry. If she lied, would they kill her? If she told the truth, what would they do to the boy?

Smoke burned her throat. Heat pressed against her skin, but the icicle at her throat sent sharp, icy pain down her spine.

“I… I did,” she gasped. “Earlier today. They came into town with the Companions. After one of their hunts.”

The pounding on the door grew louder, the wood splintering beneath steel.

The masked man stared at her, unmoving. For a brief, excruciating moment, he simply watched her, as if weighing her words. The icicle at her throat melted ever so slightly, cold droplets running down into her collarbone. Each drop sent another shiver wracking through her body.

Then, finally, he stood.

“Much appreciated,” he murmured.

He turned to his companion and made a simple gesture. The second man stopped feeding the flames and stepped back.

The icicle in his hand shattered into dust, and with a flick of his wrist, the frost around them exploded outward in a burst of chilling wind.

The fire died instantly. The flames were smothered in ice, coating the walls and shelves in a thick, crystalline frost. Jagged icicles formed along the ceiling, hanging like glassy blades.

The sudden drop in temperature left Adrianne gasping, her breath visible in the freezing air.

The barred door gave a final splintering crack, and then two guards barreled through, weapons drawn.

“Mrs. Avenicci!” one of them shouted, scanning the room. “Are you unharmed? We saw smoke and—”

They stopped dead in their tracks.

The store was no longer ablaze. Instead, it had been transformed into something out of a nightmare—an ice cave, frozen solid, with razor-sharp icicles hanging from every surface.

And the masked men?

Gone.

Adrianne slowly rose to her feet, her hands still shaking. The guards searched the room, bewildered, but the only soul left inside…

Was her.

[Inside Dragonsreach]

The great hall of Dragonsreach was as grand as the stories claimed. Kinetrius followed behind Minevi and Eradros, eyes lifted to the towering pillars lining both sides of the chamber. Each one stretched up into the vaulted ceiling and bore intricate carvings that spiraled toward the heavens. At the center of the hall, a long hearth blazed between two parallel dining tables, crackling warmth spilling across the stone floor.

Kinetrius had been in lavish buildings before, but there was something daunting about this place. He half-expected a steward to emerge and take their coats, but there was no time for courtesies. They were here on urgent business.

As they approached the throne, a dark elf woman intercepted them, her expression stern.

“Halt!” she barked. “Minevi, what is the meaning of this?”

Up ahead, seated on a throne beneath the ominous skull of a dragon mounted high on the wall, sat Jarl Balgruuf. He was engaged in discussion with his advisors when the trio’s entrance interrupted the proceedings. His brow furrowed deeply.

“Minevi… was I not clear about not wanting to be disturbed?” he growled. “By the Nine… I let the Empire into my hall for a moment, and already they overstep my authority.”

The dark elf advanced cautiously, her weapon half-drawn. In response, Minevi dropped to one knee, bowing her head low.

“My apologies, Your Excellency,” she said. “Were this not a matter of utmost importance, I would have spared you the intrusion. But a threat has come to our doorstep—one I fear cannot wait.”

The Jarl exhaled through his nose, clearly wearied by a long day of political bickering. Still, despite his frustration, he gestured for them to continue.

“You may approach, but make it quick. I’ve important business yet to settle.”

“My lord,” Minevi began, standing tall once more, “are you aware of the events in Helgen?”

“My men informed me of its destruction just days ago.” Balgruuf leaned on one armrest, voice tired. “We’re still investigating, but the only reports we’ve received claim a dragon was responsible. Which, of course, is absurd.”

“With respect, Your Excellency,” Minevi said, “those rumors are true. These two men were present at the attack and can attest to what they saw.”

She motioned for Kinetrius and Eradros to step forward. The Jarl’s eyes flicked over them, lingering briefly on the bandages wrapped around the boy’s arms and chest. He turned to Eradros.

“She says you were there—at Helgen. You saw this… dragon? Tell me, what were you doing there that day?”

Eradros hesitated. “I… was there to rescue the boy.”

“From the dragon attack?”

“No, I—”

“He was there to rescue me from my execution,” Kinetrius cut in, voice calm but firm.

The Jarl’s gaze hardened. “You’re certainly forthright about your criminal past. But how am I to take the word of two strangers? You could be lying to save your own skins.”

“Then perhaps this will serve as proof.”

Eradros reached into his coat and produced a large, silvery object—shimmering and jagged at the edges. A scale. He approached and handed it to the Jarl’s advisor, who took it with cautious hands. Pulling a small magnifying glass from his coat, the man studied the artifact closely. His eyes widened with each passing second.

“This is… this is genuine, Your Excellency. By the gods… I’ve seen dragon bones before, but never an intact scale. This is the real thing.”

Balgruuf sat back, visibly shaken. “So the rumors are true… There really is a dragon loose in Skyrim.”

“And if it returns,” Minevi said, “the nearby towns will be completely unprotected. The people have requested you send what men you can spare to defend them.”

The Jarl groaned and buried his face in his hand.

“If only it were that simple…” he muttered. “This war has stretched our forces thin. I don’t know if I can afford to send troops—or if it would even make a difference against a beast like that.”

“So you’d just leave them to die if that thing comes back?” Eradros snapped.

Balgruuf’s glare was sharp. He had no patience left for outbursts. Before he could respond, the doors to Dragonsreach burst open and two guards stumbled in, panting and wide-eyed.

“Urgent news, Jarl Balgruuf!” one of them called.

The Jarl’s jaw tightened. “This day just gets better by the second… Out with it.”

The lead guard stepped forward, struggling to catch his breath. “Something strange just happened—at the blacksmith’s shop. We thought it was on fire, but when we entered… it was frozen over. Covered in ice. We rushed in to save Lady Adrianne. She said two men were responsible and—”

He bent over, breath heaving. The Jarl looked ready to explode. The dark elf woman moved quickly, placing a hand on the guard’s back and another on his arm.

“Hey—Jarl Balgruuf is extremely busy. Just take a moment and speak clearly.”

The guard took another deep breath before continuing.

“She said they were looking for someone. A Wood Elf and a Redguard.”

Kinetrius went pale. His eyes shot to Eradros, who had visibly tensed. The names, the destruction—it could only mean one thing.

They had come for him.

Kinetrius clenched his fists. He didn’t want to run again. Not this time. If he was ever going to get answers, now was the moment to face the past.

Eradros shifted beside him, his voice low. “Look, lad… we—”

“I want to go after them,” Kinetrius interrupted, gaze sharp.

Chapter End—