Kriskja stayed in Riften for two days, making sure her letter to Jarl Balgruff was sent and money was left in the Guild vault. Farkas insisted on staying in town with her, and though he often asked after her activities, he was respectful of her need for secrecy. The issue with Brynjolf seemed resolved, yet Kriskja could tell whenever one of her fellow Nightingales was looking her way. Neither approached her, but she could feel a distance growing between them. She was happy to have a few of the other thieves asher friends; still, her days at the Cistern tended to be lonely. On the third day, she told Rune she was heading back to Whiterun, and her and Farkas started on their journey. It wasn't long before they encountered trouble; the rumble of wings on the air and the cry of a dragon had them both dismounting.

"Finally. A challenge." While Farkas seemed eager at the prospect of fighting, it only filled Kriskja with dread. She hadn't attempted to fight a dragon without Shouting since the very first, and she had had a small army to assist her. Despite Farkas looking like the bigger threat, the dragon landed and immediately turned it's attention to her, victory already shining in it's gaze. Her own resolve hardening, she drew her blades sword, before charging forward and beginning the fight. With her magicka, she kept it pinned down with ice, while Farkas moved in close to swipe at it. It didn't occur to her until they had it nearly finished off that there would be no hiding her Dragonborn status; the soul would rush into her whether she wanted or not, and he would know. As she leapt forward and dealt the death blow to the beast, it raised it's head.

"Bo wah zu'u, zeymah!" It's voice echoed across the valley and made her blood run cold. It was the first time a dragon had called to another for help that she had encountered, and it would mean trouble for them. A rush filled her as the soul filled her, knowledge and power seeping into her blood. Farkas slowly sheathed his weapon, looking at her with awe and wariness.

"I know you have questions, but we have no time." Her eyes darted to the skies, scanning the horizon for approaching trouble. "That dragon called for another, and it could be mere moments before it arrives." He nodded, and for the first time she was truly grateful to have him at her side. Together they mounted their horses and set off at a gallop, with her gaze nearly constantly on the sky. It was a tense, silent ride, until they reached Ivarstead. Kriskja slowed them as they entered the town, feeling better about a dragon attack with the number of guards around.

"Halt!" They were brought to a stop by two men in eerily familiar masks. "Are you the one that calls yourself Dragonborn?" Kriskja hesitated, looking towards Farkas as she slipped off her horse.

"Aye, I am Dragonborn." There were a few gasps from bystanders, but she ignored them. The two men were silent for a moment, as though weighing her words, before each drawing a dagger. Fire cracked in the hand of one, lightning in the other, and she tensed.

"Your lies fall on deaf ears, Deceiver!" She arched a brow, pulling her bow out slowly. Neither made a move to stop her, even as the ebony glinted in the sunlight. "The True Dragonborn comes… You are but his shadow. When Lord Miraak appears, all shall bear witness. None shall stand to oppose him!" Kriskja felt a shiver slide down her spine at the name, and it tugged at the plethora of dragon knowledge she had collected thus far. She didn't have time to focus on it, as the two masked men attacked, flinging fire and lightning at her. She rolled away, throwing up a ward just in time. The guards and Farkas lept into action, and with the men distracted she lined up her shots. Each arrow struck home in their chests, ending their lives with a gurgling sound from each. Waiting until she was sure they were dead, she stowed her bow and moved to rummage through their pockets.

"Shield Sister, there is no honor in looting the dead." She held back the urge to roll her eyes at Farkas' words as he moved to stand behind her, continuing her work until she found what she wantetd.

"No, but there is power in information." She stood with the parchment, unfolding it and reading it over carefully. She felt Farkas move ever closer, reading over her shoulder. "They weren't alone, and they certainly won't be the last."

"Who is this Lord Miraak?" The name caused another involuntary shudder, and Kriskja was suddenly glad they were at the base of the Throat of the World. It seemed she needed to pay a visit to the summit and get answers. "I've never heard of anyone in Solstheim being given that name or title."

"I know of someone who may know." Tucking the note in one of her many pockets, she moved to collect her horse. So lost in thought, she didn't notice Farkas behind her until she had already started up the mountain. "Farkas, you need not come along."

"It's no trouble." His tone left littleroom for argument, and she hoped he would be willing to listen to the Greybeards about staying at High Hrothgar with them while she continued on. The ride up the mountain was uneventful and silent, leaving Kriskja to think about the mysterious Miraak and his claim at being true Dragonborn. The men had almost made it sound as though the man himself was not living, but intended to return. Perhaps the same prophecy hailing the return of Alduin and the Dovahkiin was the one they were basing these attacks on. Perhaps they thought the Dragonborn was this Miraak. Still, that didn't explain why the name seemed to have such an effect on her. In record time, they arrived at High Hrothgar, tying the horses outside and heading in to meet with Arngeir.

"Ah, Dragonborn. What brings you here?" Arngeir may have greeted her, but his gaze was trained on Farkas.

"I need to speak with Paarthurnax. It's very urgent." The older man nodded slowly. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind keeping my friend here while I continue my journey."

"What?" Farkas' voice was quiet but strong, and she felt bad just dumping him with the monks. They could be boring at best, and she knew she would have to hurry lest he force his way up the mountain.

"Of course. Any friend of yours is welcome here." Arngeir bowed his head, and she made a note to bring them some sort of gift as thanks. With a nod, she headed for the courtyard, only stopped by Farkas' hand on her arm.

"Kriskja, wait. You need not leave me here." She turned to see him giving her a confused look, and she sighed. It struck her that no matter how much her friends and comrades would know about her, they would never know all of it.

"I do, Farkas. I must meet with Paarthurnax alone. I'm sorry." He stared her down for a few moments before finally nodding and releasing her. Turning, she headed out, looking up the path and bracing herself for the cold before starting up towards the dragon who would have answers for her. Paarthurnax was waiting for her at the top, perched on the wall like always.

"Paarthurnax, I need your help." He nodded, and she approached closer. "There are men who just came to kill me for being a 'false Dragonborn. They claim the true Dragonborn is Miraak." Again, a visceral reaction to the name, and her agitation grew.

"Ah, Miraak. He was Sonaak, a Dragon Priest, and the first Dragonborn. A dangerous foe to Men and Dov alike." Paarthurnax seemed to shudder as well. "These men, they are followers of him. They will attempt to raise him up to his former glory and lay waste to Nirn. They must be stopped, Dovahkiin."

"How am I supposed to stop a Dragonborn more powerful than myself?" A dread filled Kriskja at the thought of now having to save the world twice over, even as a plan formed in her head.

"You are more powerful than you know, little dovah. I have faith that you will be able to defeat this evil." She nodded slowly, already lost in thought. Paarthurnax sighed, leaning his head down until he was only a few feet from her. "I realize this is daunting, and more than anyone should ask of anyone else. This world and it's people will owe you a great debt." She nodded, and turned to go. "Good luck, Dovahkiin." Her thoughts were clouded as she made her way back down the mountain, only pausing long enough to thank the Greybeards and collect Farkas. He was silent as they made their way down the rest of the mountain until they reached Ivarstead again, quietly convincing her to stay a night at the inn and rest. Kriskja knew that she would need help; she could only hope her friends in the Guild and Companions would be willing to do so.