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Hello everyone. It's me again, this time with a short story. If you liked it, please leave a comment and I may create more installments. Enjoy.


The city was in ruins. Fire rained from the sky, destroying the once great capital. Shouting, screaming, people ran from their homes as the chaos ensued around them. And there, in the middle of it all, was Gormlaith. He could not bring himself to move, as if his legs were made of stone, but he kept reaching, trying hopelessly to save his sister. He could hear laughter as a bridge collapsed from the raw power of the speaker's voice, separating him from his her, as black smoke surrounded him....

"Hakon? Hakon, wake up! It's just a dream!" Hakon groggily opened his eyes, only to be brought back to cruel reality by a slap from his sister. "Agh!" Hakon was definitely awaken by that, his sister's hands were like cold, hard rocks. His eyes were set upon his golden-haired sister, a concerned look in her eyes. "Sorry, brother. You were in a deep sleep, and I wasn't quite sure I should bother Morokei about something so trivial." Hakon glared at her. "Still, did you need to slap me? I was perfectly fine. Just a dream, that's all.", Hakon stated, a slight tinge of fear present. Gormlaith looked at him, using those brown eyes of hers to cast a look of sarcastic suspicion. "Some dream that was, brother. You were shouting loud enough to wake the whole city." She started to ask about the dream, but Hakon cut her off abruptly. "I'd much rather discuss it with Morokei, if that's alright, sister." Gormlaith's look of suspicion quickly returned to one of great concern, if not one of slight fear. "That important, brother?" Hakon nodded. This was definitely not a dream to be ignored, if what he suspected was true, then all of Skyrim needed to be ready for the onslaught. Hakon swiftly donned his armor and was out the door, Gormlaith following like a dog follows it's master. Bromjunaar was busy as usual, being the capital of Skyrim, but today the cheery sense of fresh wares and a warm hearth was replaced with a cold, empty feeling. The empty, cold streets of the city were seeming like an omen of death to Hakon. Then again, he thought to himself, not many people would be selling their wares in a snowstorm like this. He was right, the blistering cold was already making him long for a warm hearth. The two of them walked up the steps to the Bromjunaar, taking note of the guards. A sleeping guard leaned against the wall, his counterpart looking on with frustration. "Hakon, Gormlaith. What brings you to the dragon temple today, hmm?" Gormlaith stepped forward to answer. "Hakon had a rather.... interesting dream. He wishes to speak to Morokei for explanation." The guard looked at them quizzically. "What makes you think his dream means anything? Chief Otar has been having strange dreams, but nothing has happened to Ragnvald, save those bothersome natives. So why is this important?" Hakon stepped forward. "Please, I need to see him. It's very important. Don't forget what I did for you at Rorik's Steading." The guard looked at him with disdain. "Fine. But I don't owe you anything else, Hakon. No more favors. Got it?" Hakon nodded, and stepped into the temple, with Gormlaith trailing afterward. They entered the temple, walking silently past those praising the Atmoran gods, stopping only when they reached Morokei's chambers. The guard there halted them. "What business do you have here?" Gormlaith repeated what she had stated to the temple guard. "Well, then. Hakon, please enter." Hakon began to walk in, but the guard stopped him. "Your sister stays out here. Dream readings are not considered very... public matters." Hakon turned to his sister. "Sorry, Gormlaith. You must stay here." She gave him a sullen look. Hakon returned her gaze with one akin to the way a parent treats a pouting child. She sighed. "Fine. But please make it quick." Hakon gave her a nod and entered the iron-doored room. Morokei stood in the corner of the room, hunching over an enchanter. He turned when he heard the door open. "Ah, it is you. Hakon, correct?" Hakon nodded. Morokei turned and moved towards the center of the room. Hakon took note of the fact that Morokei never really touched the ground, he was floating all the while. Morokei floated to a stone chair, and gestured for Hakon to sit in a similar seat opposite him. Hakon took this oppurtunity to look about the room. It was small, and mostly empty, save the chairs, enchanter, and a bed. An iron brazier lay in front of him. Morokei's voice brought him back to reality. "So, Hakon. What troubles you?" Hakon shifted uncomfortably, as stone chairs and armor do not sit well. "I... I had a dream. A very dark dream." Morokei's mask prevented Hakon from seeing his eyes, but he could feel Morokei's concern radiating from behind it. Hakon went on to explain. "It was about the city. It was burning, and people were running in all directions. My sister, Gormlaith, was there. I tried to reach her, but I couldn't move. Then there was laughter, and a bridge collapsing from the power of the Thu'um." Morokei's gaze did not change, his expression as cold as the moonstone that his mask was constructed of. After what seemed like an eternity of contemplation, Morokei spoke."This is indeed troubling. I do not know what this means, nor do I know why this dream was given to you. Perhaps-" He was cut short when the iron door opened abruptly, and Gormlaith fell through. "Gormlaith!" Hakon turned, his face a mix of surprise and frustration. "Why have you been listening? What did you hear?" Gormlaith stood up, brushing the dust off her armor. "I heard all of it, brother. The destruction of Bromjunaar.... who would do that?" Morokei rose from his seat. "Before I was so rudely interrupted," he said, glaring at Gormlaith, "I was saying you should go to Sarthaal. There's quite a few mages there who could help you there." Hakon looked at him with curiousity. "Sarthaal? Why there?" Morokei looked at him, still expressionless. "I do not truthfully know. But my intuition tells me that Sarthaal should be the first place you leave for. I fear war may be at hand. With whom, I am not aware of." Morokei's voice told what his mask hid, fear of the unknown. Hakon and Gormlaith glanced at each other, than at Morokei. "Sarthaal, then?" Morokei nodded. Harkon nodded, and the two of them bowed, as is customary to bow to a Dragon Priest, and set off for Sarthaal.