Author's Note: Greetings, my beloved readers! ShoutFinder here, with another story for you to sink your teeth into! Well, hopefully not literally - your computer won't love you for it - but in any case, here is the first chapter of 'Torn', which I hope you all will enjoy.

Like those of you who have read The Huntress, this tale contains my Dragonborn, Alyssa Laryssin. It also, however, contains six other Dragonborns who I'm certain you'll also know - if not all, at least some. Many thanks to BrunetteAuthorette99, MadameHyde, littlejuliet, skyflower51, Boys Do Like Girls and NooShoak for lending me their awesome characters!

And now I won't keep you...

Chapter One

Alyssa turned around at the sound of footsteps echoing through the usually silent Currents of Time. Immediately, as she regarded the stranger, her eyes narrowed in hatred and, should she have been a wolf, her ears would have flattened. She hissed, dragon-like, even though she still wore the Cloak, but she flexed her wrists, resisting the urge to release the wristblades on either side—one under, one over.

'Don't you dare,' she spat, 'come any closer.'

'I'm sorry.' For once, he sounded genuinely apologetic. His eyes were lowered towards the ground.

'For what?' Alyssa snarled. 'Get out of here. You know you aren't welcome. This is my domain. Mine!'

'What happened in life...' The Psijic monk swallowed uneasily, knotting his hands before him. 'The coming of the Eye of Magnus and the suffering of our greed unsettled events that we have not yet dealt with, nor comprehended.'

'That's for damn sure,' snapped Alyssa. 'Get out!' The dragon now came into her words—trembling and thunderous and dark as the corrupted side of her spirit. She wouldn't mind using his wrath upon the monk now. She would never forgive them. Not after their betrayal. Not after their sickening bargain. Never.

'Please, listen to me!' the Psijic cried. Desperation crept into his voice. 'Alyssa, you must listen to me! You are in danger!'

'I was in danger the moment you threw me through the bloody Vortex!' Alyssa roared. 'GET OUT!'

'I have no time,' the Psijic said rapidly. 'Choose to listen to my words or not, but it is coming, and it is inevitable. It is something that the events that were caused long ago have now progressed to. Become unstable...become violent. Started to rip holes through Time in ways that cannot be mended.'

'If you must speak to me,' spat Alyssa, 'then stop speaking in riddles and tell me outright, you fool!'

'The Vortex is being torn apart!' shouted the Psijic. 'And it affects not just the world of the dead—it affects the Alternate Certainties, too. All of them! Not just of your world, or the next world, but worlds in parallel unison to yours! The Dragonborns are dying and nothing can be done to prevent their deaths—they are being harvested as one source of power, for a creature that is desperate for it more so than we ever were!'

Alyssa hesitated. 'Alternate Certainties?' she murmured quietly. 'The...the Vortex is being torn apart?'

The Psijic nodded. 'Those who succumb never return. The Dragonborns are dying—and they are dying before they are meant to. Before Time rightfully claims them, and before Destiny has a chance to be fulfilled. The worlds are breaking.'

'I'm already dead,' Alyssa hissed. 'What does this have to do with me?'

'Everything. You are not like the others, Alyssa. You have the essence that the menace needs to complete his power. Now I am giving you a warning—my order has fled into hiding from these creatures, but it is up to you now—you, and the others. You cannot hope to defeat it alone. More are falling—and should you not run, so will you. You will never see the eagles again.'

A shudder ran down Alyssa's spine at this. 'Are they safe?'

'They are not of your world—they are safe in their skies. But yours is beginning to crumble. Run, Alyssa Laryssin. Run.'

It was then, at that moment, when the Psijic concluded his ominous words, that Alyssa felt a shift in the Currents.

Then there was a chilling cold.

Alyssa backed away from a force she could not see. Memories swamped her, nearly holding her to the spot—but a familiar, wild and desperate urge to survive burned through the cold, and she turned, and she ran, the Cloak sweeping behind her.

But it was too late. She felt it grab her from behind, and she fell. There was a blinding flash, and pain gripped every bit of her body. Alyssa cried out—she was dead. She could feel no pain. She should not feel any pain! Pain was only for the living...

For the living...

For the living...

A cold wind knifed her cheek, bringing scents that she thought she would never smell again.

Alyssa Laryssin opened her eyes. Above her was a bleak and empty sky, but beneath her was a light layer of soft, white snow.

Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position. She was wearing her robes of cyan and cobalt, but the Cloak was still tight around her shoulders and the hood still closed around her face. Her eyes were still green, her hair was still brown, her skin mostly unblemished and unscathed. And she still felt the reassuring weight of the wristblades fastened to the ends of her arms.

Alyssa felt cold...and for a moment, she wondered why.

Slowly, she pushed herself onto her feet, looking around her as she did so. She recognized the place immediately.

Pass, she thought. I'm in Pass.

It was a borderland world, a place that lay between life and death, a boundary between the afterlife and the living world. A place that lay between Aetherius and Oblivion, a place that could not hold, but held nonetheless. Where everything was shifted, mutilated...undecided, dying and living. A place where lifelessness and life existed as one.

The snow felt like ash beneath her feet. It sifted too heavily, too lifelessly. Alyssa had come to this place once before, she remembered. By accident. But she had come here nonetheless, and now she dreaded to be back here.

Something felt wrong. The air was too cold. The air in Pass was always stable, always of equal temperature. Now it was cold. Cold as a summer's day in the Pale. The wind was biting, but the snow underfoot was lifeless, and it was grey and dull as an old bone. The trees were tall and skeletal but still somehow alive. The water moved but was still. No time passed here. This place had never known it. It was left to exist, but never age. But it did not explain why the air was cold.

Alyssa drew her Cloak tighter around her shoulders. She suddenly felt very...alone. Empty. Defenseless.

Very mortal.

Beyond, Alyssa could hear something. She lifted her head, listening with all her might. Somehow, it felt more difficult, less natural, using her senses. They were weaker, not as acute, not as sharp.

They were thudding pawsteps. Beyond, in an unfathomable mist, something was stirring.

She stepped back, suddenly afraid. There was definitely something wrong with this place. Pass was not like this the last time she had visited here...Pass was definitely corrupted. Something was tempering with it. Alyssa realized the feeling in this place was similar to the feeling she had first encountered when entering Sovngarde for the first time, still alive, not yet a spirit, but walking in the lands of the dead and through the soul-snares of Alduin. It was wrong. It should not be.

Something snarled just behind her, and Alyssa whipped around, flicking her wrists instinctively, and the twin blades shooting from their sheaths. The edges glinted in a world without sunlight or moonshine, where spirituality was held still. It should not be. It was wrong.

The creature emerged at a run, leaping at her with a snarl rumbling in its throat. It took only a moment for Alyssa to realize the creature was spectral—and its outer sides were blue, shining and shimmering.

She dodged the attack, dropping and rolling. Her battle instincts had not yet left her. The creature paused and turned back towards her, letting out a snarling bark as it did so. From the mist, two more creatures crept out. The three wore the shape of twisted, rotted dogs the size of ice wolves, but whose eyes and spectral, wraith-like bodies glowed like the eyes of a Draugr.

No. They were not the size of ice wolves. They were bigger. Size of bears. But they still were in the shape of a hound.

These creatures, Alyssa realized. They bear similar resemblance to the ones I encountered long ago in Labyrinthian. She watched them carefully, backing up very slowly when she saw they were trying to get around her, surround her from all sides. They let out soft, eerie, rumbling snarls. They looked both solid and gas-like. They did not take their eyes from her.

A cold, icy breath of air washed through the surrounding grounds, and it was when this passed that the three leapt, in unison, at once. Instantly, Alyssa dodged one of their attacks and flipped her wristblades up. She shoved the second off, and narrowly avoided having her arm torn apart by the third. But when the three landed, all three uninjured, they turned to face her, savageness not yet abated, nor even shaken.

They're not hurt, but one should have been felled, Alyssa realized with alarm. My blade tore through one of their stomachs, throat to tail. It should have been felled, but it's not wounded. It's not even weakened.

The three creatures lunged again, once more in unison. Alyssa was breathless—she was shocked at how quickly she had tired. Was Pass draining her stamina, making her fatigued as though she had received an overdose from a Frostbite Spider? Two went wide, crashing down on the ground. The third made contact. Jaws cold as an ice wraith's teeth clamped around her shoulder and Alyssa gasped at the piercing chill that shot through her body. She threw the creature off her and it landed easily on the ground and turned back as she struggled to climb to her feet.

Alyssa didn't feel as though she had been wounded. But she felt very, very cold. The ice was filling her blood and numbing her senses, but it did not increase in its strength, nor decrease. It simply stayed, greatly labouring her. The chill stung her shoulder where the teeth had assumingly torn through the flesh, and yet when Alyssa examined her shoulder, her robes had not been severed or damaged at all, even though she had definitely felt its bite.

What is going on?

When they prepared to attack once more, Alyssa decided she had had enough. It was time to end this.

She drew breath and roared, 'YOL TOOR SHUL!'

But there was no fire, no warmth, not even a single flicker of flame. Her own wearied voice, raised in a mortal yell, rang round the gloom, swallowed by the mist. The ice in her veins did not increase or decrease, but it was then that Alyssa realized there was simply no warmth to counter it.

What is happening to me? she thought, suddenly afraid. The Voice had failed her...and she realized that it was not with her. Her dragonblood...it was cold. And it was growing colder. The creature that had bitten her was looking brighter, clearer, hungrier and stronger. Somehow, it had drained her strength.

She remembered the Psijic's words. The Dragonborns were dying.

They were being harvested.

Alyssa realized that defeat was inevitable. She had no Voice. No means to defend herself. Her weapons did not work against these creatures. They crept towards her. She would be destroyed. Like the Vortex, her soul torn apart.

And it was then that a fireball suddenly blazed through the mist, illuminating the scene in a fierce orange glow. It stung Alyssa's eyes, something that had never happened before, and she lifted her hand to shield the bright glare. The three creatures whirled around and one of them let out a frightened whimper. Then it exploded and burning heat washed over Alyssa, making her fall backwards, pulling the hood down low over her face.

When the smoke cleared she looked through. One of the creatures lay dead. And the other two were facing the hole in the mist. A figure was climbing through it, and Alyssa saw that one of her hands was holding a fistful of fire. Her crimson eyes were narrowed. In her right hand rested a slender ebony sword.

The two creatures lunged at her. With ease of a practiced warrior, she sidestepped them, and swished the ebony sword at the nearest. It pierced its ribs and through its spectral body with ease and the beast howled as abruptly it vanished into a swirling cloud of eerie blue and silver. The last creature landed and charged back. The warrior turned, and with a hiss, slashed her sword through its throat and maw as it leapt towards her. There was an explosion of colour as the creature dissipated, but within its core, there was a cloud of murky grey. It hovered for a moment in its place after the warrior lowered her blade, before it broke away into strands and swam back through the air towards its mistress.

Alyssa felt it flood through her, and gradually the ice-cold feeling lessened...but she realized that the feeling had simmered only a little, enough to reduce the immediate discomfort, but it was still present. Her exhaustion lingered.

She looked up towards the warrior, who was now approaching her. Her eyes, red as blood, were wide.

'You tried to Shout,' she said. Her voice bore both the accent of the Dunmer race and the hardiness of a Nord's.

Alyssa looked at her, and shakily nodded. 'That...that I did. But how do you know?'

'Because when I first woke up here, I tried to do the same.'

The ebony sword slipped into the sheath at her side, and she extended a hand. Alyssa hesitated only for a moment, before she took it and the woman helped her climb back onto her feet.

After a moment, Alyssa said in confusion, 'Who are you?'

'Name's Morwyn,' answered the Dunmer.

'My name's Alyssa.'

Morwyn gave a nod but said nothing.

Alyssa took note of her appearance a little more. She frowned when she noticed the strange thing about her armour. It was made, to her disbelief, entirely out of dragonbone. Sigils were carved all over it, over every single inch of bone. Alyssa was certain they were Daedric – while she couldn't read that language, she could recognize one of the sigils easily.

It also made Alyssa remember what Morwyn had said earlier.

'You knew that I was trying to Shout. How?'

Morwyn glowered.

'Because before I came here, I could, too. And that was my favourite.'

'You could Shout?'

'Dragonborn,' said Morwyn, impatiently. 'I am—I was—Dragonborn.' She glared at Alyssa and added, 'And so were you, if it means you've turned up in this place. They don't just pluck ordinary people off the streets and from the dead realms and throw them here against these...these phantoms.'

Alyssa was startled. 'You're Dragonborn, too?'

'Was. Not much of a Dragonborn if I can't Shout.' There was a bite to the woman's voice now. She turned away pointedly and added, 'And I'd get out of open sight if I were you. They don't just give up, and they'll rematerialize any moment now. You have to be on your guard here, particularly when you're mortal again.'

Alyssa slowly shook her head. 'I...I'm not sure I understand.'

'Then learn. Fast. If you don't, then the phantoms will succeed in their endeavors and the menace is only going to grow stronger. The more Dragonborns it absorbs, the stronger it'll grow until it'll be unstoppable.' Morwyn spat on the ground. 'And the only thing you can do here is run. Here, you're the prey. They aren't going to stop until your essence is completely absorbed.'

There was a rigid hardiness to her voice that made something click in Alyssa's mind. Suddenly the Psijic's warning came flooding back into her memory.

The Vortex is being torn apart. And it affects not just the worlds of the dead—it affects the Alternate Certainties, too. All of them! Not just your world, or the next world, but worlds in parallel unison to yours!

'How long have you been here, Morwyn?' asked Alyssa quietly.

The Dunmer warrior hesitated.

'How can I answer that?' she responded. 'There is no Time in this Gods-forsaken place. No sun, no moon, no stars...nobody but the phantoms and the menace and the poor, lost souls who are slowly being hunted, one by one. And each time a new one comes, I can feel this place grow even worse.'

She sighed. 'I guess you could say I've been here long enough to know how to defend myself.'

Alyssa frowned. 'You were able to kill the things.'

'Yes. I'm surprised you weren't able to.' Morwyn turned around. 'Or maybe your combat skills are pretty shoddy.'

Alyssa glared at her. 'Anything but,' she snapped. 'These just won't work against them.' She flexed her wristblades. 'And they have tasted the blood of countless things in the past.'

Morwyn was silent.

'Whatever the case,' she said, 'you had better start running. You're already weakened. The phantoms tasted and drained you. Each time they succeed in doing so, they absorb you for their masters. You regained most of it before the creatures could channel it through this place to wherever their masters lie, but some of it got away, got absorbed. They're a little bit stronger.'

Alyssa shook her head. 'I don't understand. Pass was never like this.'

'Pass?' Morwyn repeated.

'It's what this place is. Or was. Something's wrong with it. Those creatures never were here. This place is a borderland...not a hunting ground.'

'A realm of Oblivion?' Morwyn sounded confused. 'This isn't like any realm I've ever heard about, no any Daedric Prince. What would they want with a bunch of hapless Dragonborns?'

'It's not a realm of Oblivion. It's a borderland. The in-between.' Alyssa glanced down at the mushy snow beneath her. It felt heavier. 'I've come here once before. It was never like this. It feels wrong.'

She drew her Cloak tighter around her shoulders. The uncomfortable cold feeling did not disappear.

'You said there was more?'

'I only know they're Dragonborn like me because they keep trying to Shout in the dragon's tongue. And they fail.' Morwyn glowered at the ground. 'But they only end up shouting like a mortal does. With loud voices. Without power. The creatures hunt them and drain them further. The menace is growing stronger—and each time a Dragonborn succumbs, the packs grow larger. They're finding us. And we can't fight them.'

'More of those phantoms?'

'Not just the phantom mutts. There are more creatures. Sometimes, my weapons can't hurt them, and I have to run before they kill me.' Morwyn examined her blade and murmured, 'Strange. The Ebony Sword of the Blaze has tasted the blood of many.' Her voice sharpened in anger. 'And yet it can't kill a few Gods-damned knights!'

'Knights?' Alyssa echoed in confusion. She frowned. 'What kind of knights?'

Morwyn shrugged. 'Some jokers who run around speaking in some crazy language. I can't understand a word of what they're saying. It's not Draconic, Daedric, Dunmeris and definitely not Tamrielic. I don't even think it's Elvish.'

Alyssa stiffened at the feel of an ice-cold wind. It struck her bare skin and she shuddered. But when she glanced at Morwyn, she saw that she had stiffened, and her face had scowled.

'They're coming,' she said.

'What are coming?' Alyssa asked uncertainly.

There was a snarl from the murky fog, and Morwyn shouted, 'Run!'

The sound of approaching pawsteps was all the motivation that Alyssa needed. Turning, she fled behind Morwyn as the Dunmer warrior led the way through the swirling fog.

It was when they emerged again from the mist that Alyssa looked around, and immediately, her eyes flew wide open in disbelief.

Endless plains, some rising in huge mountains and others being flat as the meadows of Whiterun Hold, tore the world that lay beyond. The sky was bleak grey everywhere, but black, swirling whirlwinds were roving the lands beyond. Blue flashes were visible for the briefest of moments in the murky landscape. Thunder rumbled and cracked beyond, until Alyssa felt as though she were in the Soul Cairn again.

Torn, she thought, shocked. The world is torn!

Pass had not been like this. It was an endless flat landscape. Only grey, only calm, only still. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

Footsteps pounded beyond. Morwyn was continuing to run, somewhat oblivious to the landscape that surrounded her. Gasping for breath, Alyssa fought to catch up. She had never been this fatigued before, and the chilling coldness that lingered in her blood only slowed her down.

'Hurry up!' Morwyn yelled beyond. Alyssa could hear the sound of the creatures approaching swiftly behind her. 'They don't tire, but we do now!'

Alyssa caught up to her. 'So how are we meant to outrun them?'

'I have a place. They can't seem to enter it. If we get there, we're safe from them.'

Alyssa was quite astonished how easily Morwyn moved in the heavy dragonbone armour. The Dunmer didn't look afraid, but she was firmly concentrating on every step she took. But behind Alyssa, she could hear the drumming of spectral pawsteps growing steadily louder and louder like a war drum.

'They're catching up!'

'We're almost there. If you shut up you can run for longer.'

They scrambled over an ashy ridge to look down on a small gully. Alyssa saw the dark mouth of a tunnel leading beneath a small hill, lined with what appeared to be carven stone. Morwyn was already sliding down the slope towards it, skidding down it in a spray of ash and old snow.

Alyssa could hear the creatures' breathing now, too close. She leapt after Morwyn, sliding awkwardly down the slope in a large cloud of dead snow. Behind her, the breathing was growing louder and more excited.

Then it started leveling out and Alyssa pushed herself to her feet, already running, but she was stumbling, and her lungs were aching and her body desperate for air. The tunnel entrance was a few paces away now. But they were right behind her. Fear flooded through her. She wasn't going to make it—

There was a swish of black metal and suddenly a pained howl, abruptly cut off. Alyssa spared a glance over her shoulder. Morwyn had run the leader of the pack through with her sword of ebony, retracted it and turned to run from the three others who were pounding swiftly down the slope towards them.

Morwyn and Alyssa made it into the mouth of the tunnel, but immediately despair crashed over Alyssa. It was a cave—the end was blocked away by a solid stone wall marked with carvings. She turned around, alarmed, wondering if Morwyn had somehow led her into a trap.

The creatures were almost at the tunnel entrance now. But Morwyn was facing them now, with little fear, almost with a gloating challenge in her eyes.

'Come on!' she sneered. 'Come get this!'

The spectral hounds leapt towards her—and then recoiled as though they had abruptly leapt into a stone wall. They protested with chilling screeches, falling back onto their four paws, and charged again, and again. Alyssa stared. Each time, they could not get through. They threw themselves against what appeared to be thin air, but they could simply not get through the mysterious invisible barrier that apparently she and Morwyn could pass through, but they could not.

'Piss off!' Morwyn shouted at the dogs. 'Go find some other hapless souls to chase!'

The creatures didn't respond—they screeched louder than ever, hurling themselves more vigorously at the entrance, but always they were repelled.

Slowly catching her breath, Alyssa murmured, 'Why can't they come through? What's stopping them?'

Morwyn slowly exhaled, sinking down and leaning against the tunnel wall. The ebony sword still rested absently in one gauntleted hand. 'This tunnel is protected, somehow,' she said quietly. 'It's always been this way. I can enter, and you can enter—but those wraiths can't. No matter how hard they try, there has always been some kind of resistance.' Her eyes narrowed. 'But anyone with an ounce of logic in them would be able to work out it's because of what's at the end of the cave. The creatures can't go near it—they can go near us, but not to the walls.'

Alyssa, slightly bemused, glanced towards the end of the cave, wondering what Morwyn was talking about.

She saw what Morwyn was talking about.

It was a Word Wall. What she had mistaken to be a slab of rock with carvings on its face was actually a Word Wall—words sketched in the dragon language were all over its surface. And they were—all of them—glowing the same blue they always glowed when Alyssa approached a new one, and absorbed the knowledge there was to gain from it.

'Why?' she whispered, amazed.

Morwyn snorted. 'How should I know? But it's thanks to the word wall cave that I've actually survived for this long. Can't say the same about the other Dragonborns I keep seeing here.'

The creatures outside protested, and then eerie silence fell. They had moved away, and the blue colour within the runes flickered and died as the spectral animals departed.

Alyssa slowly sank down onto the ground, exhaustion catching up with her. She didn't understand...she had never been this tired before. Her stamina had always regenerated swiftly. She had always been able to Shout. The dragon's blood had always been there, the fire had never gone out, and she didn't understand what had caused Pass to change so much. To become so torn.

'Something crazy is happening out there,' she whispered.

Morwyn snorted. 'Crazy shit, you mean. I've been trying to find a way to fight it.' Wearily she sighed. 'And I have not found a way, as you can see,' she stated dryly.

Her voice hardened, losing its Elven accent altogether as she snarled bitterly, 'I don't understand what's going on in this freaky place any more than you do, but what I do understand is that whatever put us here in the first place and hunting us took away our abilities, our inborn gifts. Made us mortal, made us weak and quick to tire.'

Alyssa frowned. 'But that's impossible.'

'Oh, really? You can't Shout. You can't even kill those wraith mutts. Proof enough for me.' Morwyn's voice was cold and skeptical.

Alyssa shot her a glare. 'It's impossible to feel those things, though. To grow tired. To get weak. Those things only affect those who are alive. And I've been dead for...for a long time. I died a long time ago.'

Morwyn shot her a grim glance. 'You just said so yourself,' she said. 'This place is an in-between. A borderland between life and death. We're neither alive and nor are we dead. We exist, and that's it. Exist to be hunted by the wraiths. To be consumed.'

Alyssa looked carefully at the Dunmer. 'You don't sound too scared.'

'I would be giving them a whole lot more shit,' Morwyn admitted, 'but it feels as though the fire in me's gone with my abilities. I've never been this calm for a long time. Especially since the last thing I was doing when I was alive was killing my batshit crazy sister, my insane and twisted father and soldiers who formerly I was fighting for.'

Alyssa stared at her. Morwyn chuckled grimly.

'If you knew anything about the life I led when I was alive, Alyssa.'

With a growl, she pressed the back of her head against the wall and stared up at the ceiling.

'I wanted peace in Sovngarde. Now I'm here. For a reason I don't even know what. Fighting things I can't truly destroy. Mortal as the next man or woman. As though I was never Dragonborn.'

'But you've survived this far,' Alyssa commented. 'It's still in our nature to—even if the dragon is gone.' It gave her chills to think that the dragon was no longer within her. She had been born with it all her life, and her family had been born with it, all the way up to the end of the Third Age. To have no dragon blood, trapped in a world that was twisted and spoiled, faced by creatures she somehow couldn't kill, and yet this woman, Morwyn, could...

Morwyn narrowed her red eyes.

'You don't seem as upset as I'd have imagined you to be without the dragon to aid you.'

'It's happened to me before.'

Morwyn was silent.

Alyssa looked up at her. 'But thank you for protecting me against those things. Wraiths.'

Morwyn sighed.

'I still don't understand what's going on. Why we're here at all. What they want with us. But each passing day grows more dangerous. Each day the snow on the ground turns more to ash and dust. Each day more creatures like those are spawned. Each day the sky grows darker.' She flexed her sword and glowered at its tip. 'It's all I can do to survive here. But I don't think I can keep it up for much longer. The creatures were that close to getting me today. And they're growing more violent. I'm not certain about this barrier the word wall is producing but I'm actually kind of wondering what'll happen to me if it fails and they can come in.'

Alyssa frowned.

'Before I came here, I was visited by a Psijic monk in my Father's skies,' she murmured thoughtfully. 'And he told me that the Vortex was being torn apart. Something was killing off the Dragonborns before their due time.'

'Vortex,' repeated Morwyn flatly.

'It's a worm hole. Tears its way through Convexity to different points in Time. Connects to other worlds. Connects to Alternate Certainties. Different universes—and I'm certain that you come from one of them. One of these dimensions, and you've been brought through by a tear in the Vortex.'

Alyssa hesitated, and then asked, 'What time period did you come from, Morwyn? What Age?'

Morwyn paused. 'Fourth,' she said at last.

'Fourth. And those bones...they're dragon bones. You're Dragonborn. That can only mean you were there when Alduin arose from Time.'

Morwyn nodded, and tapped her armour. 'These were forged from the bones of an elder dragon. But what's your point?' There was a bite of impatience in there.

'My point is that you existed around the same time as I did,' Alyssa answered tersely, her own patience and resolve thinning. 'You killed Alduin in Sovngarde. I killed Alduin in Sovngarde. We've both been recognized as Ysmir—and, I daresay, a number of other titles?'

'Such as what?'

'Harbinger, Arch-Mage, Listener...'

'Harbinger and Arch-Mage, I was,' Morwyn affirmed. 'But Avalon was the Listener, not me.'

Alyssa frowned. 'Avalon?'

'My sister.'

'The one you killed?'

'Hell, no!' snapped Morwyn ferociously. 'Neva was the batshit crazy one.' She calmed down a little. 'It'd take all day if we go through the titles, but how did you know that I'd have some of them?'

'You lived your live to the fullest in your dimension of Skyrim,' said Alyssa. 'And I...I lived to the fullest in mine.' She listed off on her fingers. 'Guildmaster, Arch-Mage, Harbinger, Thane, Dragonborn, bard, Alduin's Bane, Nightingale, Stormblade...'

Morwyn stiffened at the last title, and her eyes shadowed.

'An alternate universe,' Alyssa concluded quietly. 'We never once met in our worlds. We never knew that we existed. We knew we were the only ones. But there are always parallel universes. And in each parallel universe of Skyrim in the Fourth Era, 201, I daresay there are always going to be Dragonborns who are living lives similar to us.'

Morwyn asked, 'How the hell do you know about this kind of stuff?'

'If you get over Farengar's obsession with dragons, he actually has some very fascinating theories on the fabrics of the universe. These parallel worlds, he calls Alternate Certainties.'

Alyssa looked around, at the ruins of Pass that lay beyond. 'Now it seems that some incredibly powerful force is drawing the Alternate Certainties into one thing. Drawing the Dragonborns from their worlds into the one place they can all truly gather—a borderland. Pass.'

Morwyn narrowed her eyes. 'And there, they are hunted for their power by whatever brought them here.'

Alyssa nodded. 'All Dragonborns. All sons and daughters of Akatosh. All victim now to the menace.'

She wasn't sure where all these odd answers had come from. But things just seemed to be making sense. The words of the Psijic monk...and Morwyn herself, being Dragonborn, having lived in a world identical to Alyssa's, but with different outcomes, different journeys, but always the same result.

'Did the Psijic monk say anything else about this?' Morwyn demanded.

Alyssa hesitated, and then she nodded slowly.

'He said that I had something that the menace needed to complete his power. An essence unlike the other Dragonborns.' Alyssa narrowed her eyes. 'I know what he meant. Impossible not to—I've been hunted like this before.'

Morwyn frowned. 'What makes you different from me? From the other Dragonborns trapped here?' She sounded even slightly offended.

Alyssa felt a shiver run down the length of her spine, and for a moment, she wondered if the scars were even still present. If there was any point of wearing the Cloak.

But she knew in her heart that they were still there. Scars were marks—the Cloak hid them, but they were a part of her body now. Even in death she was still tainted with them. That was how far Alduin's darkness had reached.

She stood up.

'This is why,' she murmured. Closing her eyes, she threw down the Cloak.

A/N: So? So? Like? Not like? Love? Tell me, I beg of you! And you all know I don't own Morwyn, all credit goes to the amazing MadameHyde! And if you haven't read her tale, Honor Among Thieves: The Unwilling Nightingale, I STRONGLY suggest you read it! Seriously! It's got over 1000 reviews, so others obviously share the same opinion as me! Pleeeeeeaaz review!