Quest 10: Quietus Numinex ☠️
Estimated Reading Time: 35 Minutes | Word Count: 5,700
Loading Screen… Stendarr Stuhn and Tsun Zenithar were once apprentices of Lorkhan but have since switched sides…
Soundtrack of Cyberim: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vU6Otycf6TmsCzBJpS6gD?si=d36bda8b3c104f45
Load Last Save (Krest, Imperial, Quest 9): https://elderscrolls.fandom.com/d/p/4400000000003661159
~ § ó § ò § ~
Roughly a week had transpired since Krest’s last faceoff against Talos, and he’d stooped into a depression after the defeat, avoiding his comrades and stooping aimlessly down lone alleys of the city, spending his nights sleepless in a net cafe, dosing on drugs like lexium to keep his stomach in check and to alleviate his symptoms. When he could sleep, his dreams were plagued with aches for Dibella, fields filled with endless flowers and the two of them frolicking through it. The aptly named Goblin Café also served as a hospital and techno harvest, attached to the Arcaneum, so the others didn’t mind as they figured he was getting the rest he needed. He wasn’t. Skyrim summer had no right calling itself that as it transitioned from Last Seed into Heartfire and fall began, light snowfall morphed into denser hailstorms. The water of the Sea of Ghosts graduated into a lighter ice-like hue, the surrounding glaciers and mountains peeled, and an autumn fog engulfed the peaks of the skyscrapers surrounding the city, giving a clandestine, gloomy edge to it all, reflective of Krest’s state of mind.
In his dreams Dibella held him in a land of milk and honey, wooing him with honeyed words. She stroked his head, breastfeeding him, the milk pouring down his chin and chest.
Krest sat upright in his enclosed bunk, disrupting his dream. Once you lose all your self-esteem, it never comes back.
The undercurrent net café he’d been resident in was called Nok, perched in a desolate corner, up above in seal-locked dorm. It was blessedly empty today as he sunk into himself, a few bottles of the refined moon-sugar aside him with a heating tray. He lit a blunt and smoked it, crinkling his nose a bit, his surroundings melting away in his self-induced high. The world molted into an ugly red, singeing him. His teeth dug into his lower lip, holding tears. The Arcanaeum was lined with ornate bookshelves, scattered manuscripts, animal-skin rugs, and wooden tables with half-empty cups of water or wine. There were also spell-creation and scroll-crafting tables present as others dozed in their virtual prisons. A barmaid delivered three cups of sticky, thick, tar-like black coffee on a grey tray to some teenagers in a virtual sim. She handed one to Krest, which he took, jerking his hand to get her to vanish when she lingered.
Stupid idiot. Can’t she see I want to be alone. He sealed his door and took a lengthy sip of coffee. Plugging the wire to his neck, he scoured through the net. We live eighty years just to die. Work so you can live, and live so you can work. What’s the point of any of it?
There were some intriguing headlines. The Thalmor had named ‘Konahrik’ as their mascot, calling him the Messiah not the Evil One and the Mane of Elsweyr had been assassinated, causing the moons, Masser and Secunda to disappear… on top of this Councilor Titus Mede, his son Attrebus and the remainder of his family were also assassinated…
Thalmor are really getting serious. They would be good allies.
The sea levels had been rising rapidly and rainstorms, hurricanes, ocean tornados, and floods had poured into the city multiple times in the previous week alone. Even now Krest could hear the pitter patter of rain and hail outside his window. Krest continued his research; apparently the High King of Skyrim was far too old to have a grip or command over his province, then something about the Nerevarine returning from Akavir and killing Vivec since the latter tried to grope Azura some seventeen years back.
He jacked out in the ides of his kennings and put out his cigarette by burning it into his forearm. Krest slurped his Hammerfell sourced coffee and extended the cable in his palm, plugging it into the wall. He tuned in the nodules, glugging the rest of his hot coffee and laying back on his futon. Krest sighed and skimmed a simulated textbook on restoration spells, revealing hand-motions and silent incantations for the most basic of healing spells. Mystic lettering with imprinted instructions — basic beginner’s shit. The ancient Aldmeri symbol of rin, meaning aid, formed by conjoining one’s hands and leaving a gap between the thumb and index finger was the incantation to ignite a simple healing spell. Krest memorized the data, replicating a copy for his own stem. Krest read more, carefully copying more symbols. Stoppering the simulation, his eyes were bloodshot. He squeezed some artificial tears resting on his bedside into his sockets, tossing the pack aside. He tweaked the electrical nodes on the deck and threw it back in his bag, lying down on the mattress, idly watching the low ceiling. It glistened like diamonds were embedded into it, stellates skittered around, illuminating the room. The sleeping quarters were a small, cramped dormitory, covered and recovered in parchment. Krest assumed the previous renters were collegiates who used it to work on as there were notes tapered there.
A Yliyth wiped his cheek with a raised shoulder from where Krest could glimpse him speaking to his associate. “Thalmor have requested an outcropping immediately and want it investigated. It’s from back during the days of the Crisis.” The guy speaking wasn’t actually a guy at all. He, or rather it, was a genderless species called Yliyth. Snow white with faceless features and tall, slender bodies with four arms and legs. Like walking squids. Quite creepy but friendly. This one was named Elfthryth Ithyliyth. He was discussing with the Techo-Goblin Dimloth Grimloin and Forest Orc, Urag Gro-Shub.
“We’s goesis to Atmora and getsis the precious skooma, yes!” Dimloth suggested excitedly. “Right, Urag?”
“You’re a Goblin. I am a Forest Orc. We are not the same,” denied Urag, slashing his arm diagonally.
Elfthryth floated in a pool of ice, thousands of wires plugged into him as if he were an electric eel powering the city’s generators.
“I don’t have time for this. I’m gonna go rehearse for a theatre play I’m starring in on the morrow.” Urag tramped off.
The following morning, he was discharged so Krest packed his things, showered off the sweat, and ambled out of the hikikomori hostel, appreciating the shiny make and brass-grates as it elevated higher and higher until exiting out through a hidden door into Nordenbjörg. Krest saw the impressive figure of Brynjolf on a date with Saadia up above in a corner café.
Krest closed his eyes when Magnus sent beams of the heavens at them as rain rode in to flood the lower water channels of the city. Back onto the streets of the Snowhawk District. White flagstones shone in the rare bout of autumnal sunlight that permeated the grounds in the waxing days of Heartfire, the first month of fall. A single rose petal detached from a garden on the upper level of buildings and floated down, falling on Krest's head. A few of its companions copied and landed on his shoulders. Endless skies mirroring a wide and deep ocean loomed above. Krest wanted to jump and swim in them, like the answer to everything was resting at the bottom, or rather top. The blue went into his head and morphed to purple, reminding him of those vivid violet eyes with pupils like dark slits. Anger throttled him and traveled via his veins to his fists, whiteness over his knuckles as he clenched them, barely restraining the aggravation.
At one of the town squares many people were congregating as Jarl Ulfric came out onto the wooden stage to proclaim a few words, “I have good news, sons and daughters of Shor. Talos has returned at long last. The Hero has come to liberate us the Nords of Skyrim from the yolk of the Empire and taint of the elves! Hear ye damnable Thalmor, Talos was seen raising a Dragon! He has come to save us, good citizens of Skyrim! And we the Stormcloaks, the Sons of Septim wish to raise up a mighty army for Talos to lead as a jihad against the Empire and Dominion.”
Many Nords cheered, throwing their fists in the air, hooting racial slurs towards elves and praises to Talos.
“Our Hero, Talos will finally defeat Konahrik the Elven Devil, and Nords will rule all of Tamriel!” One old woman started dancing in the crowd as she yelled.
“Fuck Elves, those longhead pointy-eared demons,” one teenage boy said to his friends who all laughed in agreement. “We oughta drop a giant explosive and kill them all on their island Summerset. Then flood their land under the sea.”
"Imperial trash,” one nearby Nord who was sweeping his porch said in his nordic accent. “Go suck Altmer cock that’s all yer good fer.” Krest took his broomstick and threw it across the street and uppercut him into the ground.
Dumb fucking caveman.
Krest drifted by a family of ducks crossing the street from The Bards' Academy of the Voice. A peacock roosting on the school grounds, flocking its feathers to the alumni. Skyrim was less populated than Cyrodiil by a huge margin. An akaviri aesthetic decorated the thoroughfare between marble towers and small noodle stands. Lines of giant fishnets and dead octopus hung by the seaside, ledgers for importation of food on casks and crates, wooden ships resting precariously, away from the deeper basins where sea monsters whirred. Bananas from Elsweyr and such. Thanks to the self-imposed cracks and viewpoints in the fortification, Krest saw a massive Mosasaurus thrust into the air and swallow a flock of seagulls, tidal waves flipping in its wake. Flushing into the whirlpool it formed.
He took off his gauntlet, pushing his wrist-outlet off and rewiring the cables there before snapping it back in place. That’s a lot better. Grey and brown mammoths hurdled in the countryside visible from the city, alongside giant sloths. A light oobleck rain pattered the clay and sludge mountain they were on, a hidden trove of coned trees guarding some ancient cave. Technological underworks buried under mountains of snow way far off. If the monsters were removed from Skyrim, Krest would not have minded exploring every facet here. Clockwork Dwarven machinery outlining the infrastructure of the municipality. The scent of apple pie and milk infiltrated his nose. Glancing up he saw water basins on ledges, and ropes attached across apartments with clothes aired on them for drying. Lanterns hung from low posts. Krest bladed across the inlaid marble lanes, tightening the raggedy blanket over his shoulders. A giant butterfly and dragonfly zoomed overhead. Naval fleets were tucked away inside a crag-contained boathouse beneath the levels it would appear, in case one of those freakish sea beasts decided to get too close. Skyrim had to have had a navy. An airship drifting peacefully on the sky port.
Krest stepped past the crowd on the lightly snowy streets, toward the gazebo. Dwemer spheres patrolled the streets of the marble city, serving as extra guards, their color matching the brass reinforcements of various arrangements of apartments. A monorail track was stationed in a clock-tower, a few of the passengers had hounds with them, all of whom barked loudly at Krest for some reason. A stable with lambs and bunnies and chickens flanked him, hay strewn about. The calm before the storm.
A rumbling like thunder was coming off in the void. Cold wind bit into his skin. A lonesome black cat meowed in admonishment. An anorexic witch’s hands clenched her vacuumed abdomen as she let out a witch-like howl. The sky was on fire.
Why was the sky on fire?
…
A great shadow swooped over Krest. A gust of heat came from the air and smoke billowed shortly after.
"DRAGON!" Hollered a stranger as the cries of babies sounded off, buzzers and bells alerting Nordenbjorg of the threat.
Krest pounced, jolting down the stairs to the lower level near the banister, overlooking the domed houses. Trailing after the sound of frantic screams. Sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him, he rocketed towards the balconies. He began to wobble and shake with each footfall until a resounding pop crackled throughout his hamstring and he tripped, falling off the surface as books flew everywhere, tables exploded, and everything went black when a chair flew over and hit him head on...
Magma gassed over. Krest’s eyes perked open, a wardrobe was lofted on top of him.
The square was razed, burnt marbling. Burned books, knocked over shelves, ash from the wooden furniture littered the floor everywhere. Krest struggled but failed to push the shelf off his chest. Smoke was coming out of the cauldron now and the dead twisted in necromantic dance. Krest saw corpses roasted. When his tears obediently crawled back into the corners of his eyes, he opened the deck-inset. The dead bodies rose, their eyes hollowed out, floating, and waltzing around in a circle. They started muttering some chants, but it didn’t feel like it was them that was doing it; it felt more like a master puppeteer was controlling their corpses and making them move around all silly.
Krest freed his hands, firmly placing his palms against the shimmering glass of the wardrobe. He pressed, but his wrists slid through breaking it and slitting themselves, shards impregnating into his skin. He sharked them out, flattening over the tarmac. Maybe I should just die here. Long tears drizzled up and swelled down his face. The lower half of his jaw was covered in blood and his abdomen felt fit to burst under the furniture. His head twitched and arched painfully, spasming.
No. I refuse.
He placed either hand on each side of the dresser, pushing up with everything he had. I won’t rest until he’s dead. Krest shoved his forehead against it, shoving, shoving, moving it successfully aside, and clambering out from beneath the wreckage of ice blocks, crawling towards the light.
Remember those healing spells. He stitched his damaged wrists and other small wounds shut, rising up on one knee. I’m the Dragonborn, I can do this. He looked to the side, shimmering veils of heaven above touched down, lighting up the warm undertones of his forearm.
More yells and wails followed. Krest spun around in all directions until his eyes locked onto the massive, hulking monstrosity. It was soaring above the Crystal Keep, colossal wings sending small tornadoes through the air in their wake as it touched down on a spire, freezing men alive with its blizzard. Storms of ice enveloping the unlucky corpses below. It was chalk-white with a lean, gold-ribbed underbelly, sharp talons the size of scythes, and six limbs. It had two pairs of legs and its wings attached from the back.
It's no wyvern. Krest's mouth gaped.
It flapped its gargantuan pinions in the air, reaching down and picking up a few straggling guards with its free front claws and swallowing them whole. Their clothes, hats, and weapons scattering across the walls.
Krest drew his tongue over his lips. Talos must’ve sent it to kill me, the Dragonborn. It has to be me. Too many coincidences for it to be anyone else.
He screeched as brick and mortar flew, ducking into an alleyway, more screams and fire rang out from the city, smoke filling the air. The burnt cadavers from before were still twisting and swaying musically.
"SVARI, RUN!" Screamed a little girl's mother as a building fell upon her. The nordic youth, Svari tore past him, crying.
He hotfooted towards the temple as the white and gold horned beast growled above. Its claws ripping off the weaker roofs and cracking stone. "Zu'u yah dinok do dii in ahrk Zu'udro fron. Un zok goraan soskiin!" Ushered the dragon's thick speech from above them, it rooted itself upon the College of the Voice. "I seek my master's quarry! The dragon-child, the one known as Dovahkiin!" The Dragon announced to all. "Vir sahlag, the coward refuses to reveal himself. Rinik pruzah ruz, YOL TOOR SHUL!" Inferno streamed like death from the lizard's maw, enveloping a family of four hastily trying to make their escape. "I shall turn this city grey from fire until the weakling decides to come forth! The whitened marble will moult the ocean into diamonds!”
Krest sashayed around the upper corridors of the cold-encroaching backway, sifting through rubble, and sneaking behind a taller group of skyscrapers on his way back, but didn't have to travel far before he spotted his leagues travelling further ahead, observing the dovah with keen eyes. Dibella wore a set of white, winged armor with a helmet that arched over her nose like an eagle's beak, a great blade in her hand. Akatosh, Tsun, Saadia, and Idrasa close behind her, each armoured up in their own respective fashions. Glancing back at the dragon, Krest jostled over to them while Smog billowed above. The air reeked of ash and carbon monoxide.
“Keep Saadia safe, she is the Sybil,” gritted Akatosh to Idrasa. "I can transform and try to battle Numinex Findukaan--".
"That thing has a name?!" Saadia’s eye twitched, her hands clasping at straws.
"Yes, he's a child of mine as are all dov. Numinex, as I was saying. But no, were I to try and subdue him it would only result in more destruction in this city, too small for two dragons. He wouldn't bow to me either, Talos has bend his will somehow."
"How?" Saadia impressed.
"Talos managed to find a way to resurrect and brainwash Numinex. He's used magic and corrupted the principles of the voice like his shade, Ysmir Wulfharth once did. We can try to lure him away however and then I can take him down outside the city." Auriel wiped his face from soot.
"You'll kill him?" Tsun readied his massive axe.
"He won't be dead, he will live on in Aetherius," Akatosh reassured.
Dibella nearly screamed, her fists tightened. "Who cares?! People are dying!" She charged out onto the now decimated black battle ground.
Krest's lower lip hit the floor.
"She's getting his attention," Tsun defended her, shoving Krest out of his way.
Idrasa projected telekinesis and two arrows eclipsed the Dragon’s wings. The dragon reared its head onto the approaching Dibella. It was using a bone as a toothpick after having just devoured another Nord. The image just didn't sit right with Krest. Like a nightmare had borne fruit. The creature was magnificent however, its wings like an angelic cape.
"Aah, Lady Dibella the Y’ffer. Vir gluuskei Zu'u siiv hi," he uttered in a rather insulting manner, his serpentine lips drawing into a dastardly smirk.
This is just plain surreal and bizarre now. He's like a villain just without the evil mustache to twirl maniacally.
Dibella ran ahead.
"Saadia, Idrasa." Akatosh rounded on the Redguard. "Please go and help the guardsmen man the crossbows and artillery, tell them to fire the largest spears they have at him, and to do it from under cover or where Numinex can't reach them."
"Yes, my lord." Saadia was gone in a flash of gleaming mithril. Idrasa tailing her.
Akatosh grabbed Idrasa at the last moment. “Please keep Saadia safe.” Idrasa nodded and jogged away.
"J’zargo, use those magicks of yours to target the beast in its weak spots, but stay undercover. It is weakest on its joints, eyes, and over its heart," Akatosh yelled to the cat who was hiding nearby, wide greens twinkling.
“J’zargo thinks it best if he does not participate.”
Krest tapped the dragon-god's wrist.
"This is no place for a kid, help heal the others." Before Krest could rebuke, the time-god was off brandishing his unique aureate bow and elven arrows.
The others followed in a whirl of wind and battlemages spilled out from near him and began casting protective enchantments around the outer walls. A Fus Ro Dah erupted off the top of a towering skysail. Krest galloped under a more protected arch.
The dragon thrashed and knocked off several guards that attempted to attack it. Some tamed dwarven automatons, spheres, spiders, and humanoid ones charged Numinex, managing to thrust their spears into it to a great wail of pain from the nightmare on Nirn. The creature, who sat in the middle of the battlefield composed of rubble and ruined edifices, huffed, and puffed and the spears shot out from it in all directions. Three went hurdling toward Akatosh who spun his bow in his hands fast enough to deflect all of them before drawing it and landing an arrow perfectly into the colossus’s fiery orange iris, within the pupil.
"Bull's eye!" Akatosh cheered, hopping.
Numinex's horned crown flew back, and fire bellowed out, soaking a grand towering monument in flames and soot. "Consorting voth joor niraat. Curse you Akatosh! Nomah sends his regards," the words morphed into dragon blaze towards the end, but Akatosh acted faster.
"IIZ SLEN NUS!" Akatosh's thu'um stormed out, herculean enough to freeze the flames in its tracks before it all melted into steam. "Do not repeat the mistakes of your eldest brother, Alduin. He was a fool who defied me as well. -- Hi los do hin fin gruth, ahrk him fen los wah dreh in paar! Rok lost aan krivaan nol faal kiin ahrk neh kriist ahst fin vahzen fah til los nid vahzen ko rok. Fod rok lo rok tinvaak do ok sil, fah rok los aan nok ahrk faal bormah se praal."
"Fos goltnu. Cast aside all who don't conform, Father?" The dragon peered menacingly up at him as Krest watched in horror.
"No. I cast aside those who wish to forsake and dominate. Tsun, now!" Akatosh bellied, rallying out of the way as the mighty Nord deity charged up behind him, swinging his mighty cudgel over his broad shoulder, smacking Numinex hard across his long jaw. The bone palate snapped straight off and blood as bright as the fire that burned in the beast leaked out, a puddle forming on the playground. It was sizzling with blobs.
Dibella lunged forward from behind the dovah and slashed at its wing, but it shook her off and shot up into the air as Tsun’s next swing hit the ground, cracking it.
"Feim Zii Gron," barely croaked Numinex in a whisper as he became ethereal and the hail of arrows that descended upon him from the distance flew threw him like he was a ghost and crashed into a neighboring building. It was then the dragon's remaining eye fell onto Krest. Before he could do anything, Numinex batted his wings, swooshing down over them like a wave and snatching Krest with his talons. Wrenching him up as wind assaulted them.
“Guess the enchantments were only meant to work against songs of ice and fire,” meowed J’zargo.
Useless fuck.
As they soared into the sky, Krest saw the scene below him. A crater was lodged into the middle of the capital and the gods toiled on the ground as guards, warriors, and any citizen either brave or crazy enough thundered down the hill, firing arrow after arrow at the ivory scaled titan. The body of Numinex was like a whale from here but scaled and he nearly threw up at the height they were at. A golden arrow from Akatosh pierced Numinex's hook and Krest fell. He screamed as he descended. A highspeed train flying off the tracks into the sea.
Akatosh shouted something at Krest, and he felt his body become ethereal like Numinex had earlier. He fell onto a marble rooftop and rolled, unharmed. Numinex folded in his wings and swooped down at him in a snake-like lunge. "WULD," shouted the traitorous dragon. But as he neared the building Tsun whacked him hard across the face once more with his mighty hammer. Numinex' entire jaw snapped right off. The beast thrust through the pearl skyscraper toppling it over as Krest sprinted to get off before it collapsed. Glass, furniture, books sprayed everywhere in the wake of dust clouds. The ground beneath him then caved in and he fell, launching hopelessly down, landing on his crotch, and getting up unfazed.
That would’ve ended very badly if I wasn’t a Praetorian.
The interior was like a maze; hallways and passages that ran around, going up and connecting several rooms with the office at top, and beneath the ground where everyone else slept. Everything was icy, including the walls, floor, and ceilings. But strong enchantments kept them warm and kept the ice impenetrable and immune to heat. He dialed wildly down the corridors, into the overhead section, which proved to be a mistake. The Dragon’s palm struck the brick behind him, caving it in, seething with rust.
Numinex had cornered him, injecting its claw into his shoulder as ichor bled onto nails. The creature lowered its head and molting spit dripped down from its vellus scales to glop on Krest’ face. It felt like thick globules of pungent serum caressing his cheeks and mouth. “I recognize my own kind, joor,” he said. A blast resounded, gifting Krest the chance to uppercut it and dodge, running outside as it swung around, caving more building with its tail. The nightmarish lizard scuttled after him on its multiple dual pair of legs. Its footsteps sounding like ten men trailing after him at once.
Bloodthirsty and enraged, the dragon crashed through the roof right under Krest, and he nearly fell into its mouth but stepped over its teeth as it snapped them shut and Krest hopped onto its head, grabbing its horns for support as it took flight once more. The dragon crashed onto rooftops, smashing basins of bath water and lines of drying clothes. Its wings pierced, ripped, and tattered. Nevertheless, it launched itself over the wen. Krest saw a catapult with a huge fire-lit spear draw onto the grounds followed by canons pulled by prisoners from the dungeons it seemed according to their attire and chains.
Numinex flew as best he could, flapping his wings like a baby bird over the lake below, still level with the outlying city wall. Krest saw Dibella high tailing in a sprint, full force across the gate towards him and the dragon. He'd never seen anyone run so fast in his life. She was yelling something, but everything was a blur, and he wasn't sure what she was trying to convey.
"JUMP! JUMP YOU IDIOT!" She waved her sword above herself at him.
Krest let go of Numinex's curved black horns and rolled over. Streaking toward the water, his hair flying up just as canons burst through the dragon's wings and a spear throttled its rib cage, spearing his heart and exploding in midair with lava flowing out of the organs and aorta. The eyeball of the drake bouncing off Krest's shoulder, into the samandar. The dragon's body fell toward the waters and Krest saw Dibella lunge off the elevated walkway straight at him. Firstly, she flew down to Numinex and ripped the dragon’s heart from the hole in its neck then she plummeted through the air, gliding on her armored wings. She slammed into Krest hard, quickly wrapping him in her arms and clenching his legs with her own as they made their descent downwards into the ominous lake below.
“Hold onto me, baby. Hold onto me.” She clutched him so tight he could barely breathe.
Dibella stiffened around him like a vice and tucked his head beneath her chin. They closed their eyes as they burst into the sea, followed by the fiery body of Numinex. He shrieked as the unforgiving air whipped his nostrils, lashed his hair, and froze his body. He descended for what felt like hours before plunging into the depths of the pool of bright blue death, his body screaming as every pore was assaulted by ice shanking into him like knives. His head violated by the submerging. But Dibella’s stronghold over him cut through with its motherly warmth. The flames died away as the dead dovah plunged into the vibrant water. Krest sank, his eyes closing, but strong arms wrenched him across onto shore. The ale of Aetherius changed into feeling refreshing after the heat the dragon-fire had emitted, purifying toxins from every bodily pore. The pool becoming a bubbling hot tub.
He climbed out onto the marble sand, coughing and spluttering water out of his lungs as Dibella tossed her helmet and blade aside. Krest clapped a hand to his forehead, chittering in the coldness and lying on his back, breathing slowly. Dibella sat down a few feet away from him, drying off her armor. Her angel wings shook off the wetness as she readjusted the giggling flower in her hair.
She breathed a sigh as she articulated, "I'm going to pretend you didn't do any of that on purpose. Otherwise, I'd have to yell at you and I'm too exhausted for that right now."
Krest sat up, pushing himself against a rock. Their stares snapped round when the Mosasaurus from before swam and engulfed Numinex’ corpse into its mandibles, splashing tsunamis their way. Dibella jumped onto him, holding him down as the liquid thrashed over them before subsiding back into the enormous marble sea-basin. Her whole body was pressed against him. He was smaller than her by a margin. When she looked at him, short hair soaked. Her bleached, crystalline eyes focused on his throat and his ribcage fluttered. Butterflies exploding in his stomach.
"Something's happening." Dibella mirrored Krest, pulling him up by the wrist.
She picked up her sword as lights, multicoloured like dancing flames or fireworks thrilled out of the bastion and the clenched bristly teeth of the sea monster, encircling around Saadia, who had just arrived from the burning scene above. Dibella dropped her weapon and they collectively watched Saadia. The others arrived then, locating them, and observing with astonishment. More luminous energy swirled around her, sinking into her membrane. Akatosh, Krest noted from the corner of his vision, was not surprised, smiling instead.
Saadia closed her eyes, garbed in tattered mithril, hair sticking up in odd places. Her eyes opened. “FUS RO DAH!" A thundering ethereal cloud sundered out of her mouth, rippling the sea, and scratching the zephyr.
Krest leaned back on a colourless boulder.
She was the Last Dragonborn all along. It was never me.
A pang of loss. He stared flatly at the ground, wishing he too would’ve just died.
Tsun and Dibella marched toward her. Krest shifted to get a better view of Akatosh and Idrasa.
"What does this mean? And you knew all along but didn't say..." Saadia stared at her palms in apparent disbelief.
"You are the Last Dragonborn." Akatosh grinned widely. "I wanted you to discover it for yourself, daughter. You are the Dovahkiin. Ysmir, Dragon of the North. You are the one destined to defeat Talos, and even Konahrik. I am so proud of you. You have not lived an easy life, Saadia.”
Krest bit his lip, warily surveying the few remaining bone fragments of the Dragon under the clear blue sea. Small tears broke from their prison, flooding his jowls. He felt like he could punch a boulder head on. His mind was a frenzy, emotions, memories, feelings all swept through his frame, but he only shuddered, bracing in a wave of tears that threatened to make another coup. He inhaled the fresh air and relished in the cold feeling as it made its descent to his lungs, before exhaling thoroughly and peeling open his eyelids. Thankfully, none had bore witness to his tantrum. Save a huddle of penguins hopping around on the peaks. One seemed to be laughing at him…
Saadia deserves it. She was the prophet of Dibella, but she was humble. Not narcissistically arrogant like me, dreaming up messianic delusions.
“Talos recognized her as a dovah too. It took him longer because he wasn't born as one, but he's absorbed souls, so he knew of the kinship. That's why Numinex came here.” Tsun crossed one arm over his abdomen, the other stroking his oiled beard-hair.
"He destroyed the underground passage and the worm. Which means we can't track him here." Dibella indicated the wreckage with her finger.
Way in the distance Krest could see it as well, marble ground caved in on itself, shattered stones and a dead worm carcass sticking out of the dirt underneath.
“Numinex must've destroyed it before attacking the city. Now we can't trail Talos,” Idrasa postulated.
"Well, I think we ought to go bury the dead and rebuild.” Akatosh ran cleansing hands over his illustrious golden beard. "But I think a spot of tea and apple pie would be nice beforehand."
Tsun kissed Dibella and she coned her fingers around his countenance in return. They all eventually walked off up the hill, leaving him alone.
Krest simpered, toddling off where he’d be unseen. Behind a boulder, his brows did a downward struggle as he washed his face in the tributary. All the soot coming off and soaking away. He put his head in his hands.
I hate my life. I hate myself. I just want it to end. I wanted to be special, thought maybe all this suffering and pain was for a reason… but nah. I’m just another worthless nobody who won’t matter after he’s dead and gone, buried in the dirt, never to be remembered.
He wasn’t the Last Dragonborn. He was a nobody just like the rest of them. What reason did he have to live?
Krest laid back against the pale boulder, resting his chin to his neck.
In all the days I’ve been alive, not one good thing has ever happened to me.
~ § ó § ò § ~
A/N: My shouts will work differently than canon. Basically, you absorb shouts and knowledge both from dead dragons. Why? So, we don’t have 20 chapters of Saadia dungeon delving. Yes, Saadia is the Dovahkiin. There is no hoopla at play here. Saadia is the ONLY LDB in this. Krest is just a delusional, depressed, daydreaming kid.
Next Quest: The Last Dragonborn
