Bones.

Krosa's eyes snap open at the realization. When she killed the dragon in Whiterun, all that was left of it was bones. It burned from the inside out when Krosa absorbed its soul— which only means one thing. That dragon lying down there with dozens of people gawking and hacking at it is not dead. She can feel its energy, its life regathering. Why couldn't I feel it before?

But you did and you chose to ignore it.

There's a scream.

Krosa jumps out of bed and runs down the stairs as more people join in on the screaming. There's shouting and crying. Her heart hammers in her chest. Not again. She can't see another city burn. Hilda and her family. Sinding and Barbas. She doubts they would have left her there, but she hopes against all hope that is what they did. If they die she will never forgive herself.

The Inn is empty downstairs, the people have likely fled already. That's good. She only hopes they were able to escape with their lives. She can hear the sound of battle as she turns to the door. Krosa prepares herself as she throws it open, ready to see the world burning. Ready to—

People are dancing. Chatting and laughing. Eating and drinking. What? Krosa steps aside, looking to the downed dragon. They have successfully sawed off the horns, and are now working on the meat, leaving trails of blood in their wake. It's a more gruesome sight now than before, and Krosa has to look away as her stomach heaves. It's almost as if she can feel its pain. She can feel it, or something at least. Something that is there but didn't used to be.

There's a shout, a hand on her shoulder. Krosa turns and stares into the melted eyes of a burned corpse, it's face still contorted into a scream. She flinches as she backs quickly away, bumping into something. She turns to look, and a person is standing there, burned from head to toe, patches of flesh and muscle hanging loose as it reaches out for her, begging her to help it. She has to fight against the scream that threatens to tear through her throat as she backs away. She trips and falls— blinks and then it's gone. Instead, there's a man, eyes intact and flesh not burned or rotting looking annoyed. What is going on?

"Sorry, sir, she's not feeling well," someone says from behind. He nods to the voice, then walks away with one last disapproving look over his shoulder.

Hands pull her up, and she shakes them off furiously, stepping away and turning to look at the culprit. She expects to see the wild eyes of a soldier, but it's only Hilda's father.

"Krosa, wherever you think you are, you're not there, alright? Whatever is happening is only in your mind." She stands there, panting, not fully comprehending his words. He grasps her arms when she doesn't answer. "Breathe."

Krosa does, doing her best to calm the panic in her lungs. To ignore the sharp pain in her throat. The wild beating of her heart. "The dragon—"

"Is dead.

"No, it's not." The look he gives her is pitiful."You don't understand it— I— I have to kill it."

"The guards already did. Krosa, you're shaking. And probably hallucinating."

Hallucinating? She could be— no. She knows that she's right. Krosa doesn't know what just happened, but she knows what she feels is true. She won't let herself deny it again. She can feel it in her bones. Her soul. Wait. The dragon's soul. That's what I'm feeling. How did it take her so long to fully realize it? Balgruuf was right and she's an idiot. A fool, a coward, a—

"We probably shouldn't have taken you with us." Before Krosa can say anything, the rest of the crew joins him.

"Is everything alright?" Sinding asks, looking at Krosa with concern. She can't bring herself to meet his gaze. She looks to Ida instead.

"That dragon's not dead. I have to—"

"What!?" Ida exclaims, pulling Hilda closer and looking towards the dragon. The dragon's still laying there, its body mangled and bloody. Fear turns to confusion and then suspicion as she looks back to Krosa.

"It is, Krosa," Hilda's father says to her. To the others, he says, "It seems her sickness is getting worse. She doesn't seem to be in her right mind."

"Yes, I am. Please, listen to me—"

Ida marches over to her, placing her hand on Krosa's forehead. "She is burning up again."

Krosa huffs in frustration as they continue to ignore her. They will never believe her like this.

"What should we do?" Ida says, echoing Krosa's thoughts. "Take her back home?"

"No. I think it's better to stay. There should be a healer somewhere who could help." They lead her back into the empty Inn and sit her down. Ida and Hilda leave to find someone to help. She doesn't have the strength to fight it.

And you think you have the strength to slay Alduin? Ha! Your foolishness knows no bounds.

"I don't need to rest. I'm not sick, I need to kill it. It's coming back to life." Krosa says, trying to drown out the voice. Mirmulnir. It has to be. Krosa doesn't know where else it would be coming from. Even her own inner voices don't hate her as much as this.

"First it's not dead, and now it is but is somehow coming back to life?" Sinding says with a smirk. Krosa shoots him a withering glare. His smirk wavers, but he still maintains eye contact. Krosa's the first to look away.

"To be fair, it came back to life once before," Barbas states.

Hilda's father pauses at that, looking to Krosa curiously. "You're right. It—"

"But then they killed it again. Cycle complete."

"That's absurd—"

"Both of you get out," Hilda's father says, and they look like they're about to argue for only a moment before obeying. They trudge silently out the door, looking back several times as if expecting him to change his mind. He doesn't. When they're finally gone, he turns back to Krosa.

"Does their arguing ever end?"

"No."

"I swear they're worse than children." Krosa only smirks at that. "You don't know my name, do you?" He says out of nowhere. Krosa freezes. She was hoping it'd come up in conversation but there was never a reason for it to. He chuckles. "I thought so. Sinding and Barbas made a bet on whether or not you knew it or if you'd ask if you didn't. They were going to interrogate you once you rejoined us, but it seems like they won't be getting the chance to." He leans back into his chair, crossing his arms.

"I'm sorry."

"No need to feel sorry. It's more funny than anything." He looks at her, as if waiting for her to say something. When she doesn't, he smiles wryly and says, "My name is Peter, by the way." Krosa tries not to cringe. She wonders who won the bet.

"I'll remember it this time," is all she says. He only chuckles, and Krosa's left to her thoughts. Her fear, panic, worry— whatever works best to describe it. The only times she felt it this strongly were with her past— worrying about the Alik'r and if they'll come for her or find her. Staying would make their confrontation inevitable, but that isn't what's important. In fact, they're more distant from her worries than ever.

"What happened back there?"

"I don't know how to explain it. I— There— I'm—"

"Relax, Krosa. You're overthinking it. Just say what's most important."

"I was at Helgen when it was attacked by the dragon. I— When—" Krosa takes a deep breath as flashes of that day swirl through her head as well as the fresh memory of the chaos. She doesn't want to talk about it. Just thinking about it sets her nerves on fire. "I'm the Dragonborn," she blurts out, freezing as the words escape her lips.

"What's a Dragonborn?"

Krosa sighs. Of course he wouldn't know about it. It seems to be something only the elite Nords know about.

"I didn't know about it at first either. Then when I found out I— I didn't want to believe it. I don't know a lot about it, but— Have you... heard of Alduin?" He nods. "What about the voice power?"

"Do you mean the Voice? Like what Ulfric has?"

"Yes."

"Is he a Dragonborn too?"

"I—" Krosa pauses. Can there be more than one? She certainly thought so the day before. But the truth is, she doesn't know anything at all. "I'm not sure," she admits, "but that's not important… Jarl Balgruuf told me that a Dragonborn is the only one who can kill dragons and defeat Alduin."

"And you weren't here when the guards—" Understanding dawns on him, and Krosa can tell he's worrying about Hilda and Ida as he imagines the destruction that will occur if Krosa's right. "But it's been torn up and mangled. There's barely anything left of it. Surely after all that it couldn't—"

"If it's like any of the other dragons I've seen, it can. Peter, I can feel it. It's waking up."

"What if you slit its throat or something before it wakes?" Krosa takes a moment to study him as she feels relief settle into her shoulders.

"You believe me?" she asks, knowing she wouldn't have if she were in his shoes.

"To be honest, part of me still thinks it's bullshit, but you don't seem like the type for fantasies. And I've learned it's always better to be safe than sorry." He stands up, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you have a dragon to—"

There's a scream followed by a deafening, agonizing roar. Krosa looks to him frantically.

"I heard it too," he says with fear in his eyes. They waste no time and head for the door, but the door bursts open before they can reach it and in comes Sinding and Barbas.

"Now Krosa, there's no need to say I told you so, but—"

Krosa barrels past them, surveying the scene. People are now running away and screaming, a few buildings are on fire. The dragon is writhing and lashing out. A few guards are fighting it, but what should be an easy battle is turning out to be impossible. The dragon's glowing, and Krosa thinks she sees its horns starting to grow back; the guards struggling to land a hit. She spares the others a look as she starts her way towards it.

"I told you so," she says. She can't help it, really.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Sinding calls out, about to follow, but there is no time to answer. Krosa feels the heat before it hits.

"Get behind me!" she yells as she throws a ward up just in time.

The flames never touch her, but the heat alone is scorching. Her arms shake from the power of the blast and she feels the ward waver. Just when she thinks it'll overtake her, it ends. She looks back to the others. They're alright. The guards fighting it weren't as lucky. "Find Hilda and Ida and get to safety. I'm going to kill it." Peter doesn't need to be told twice, but Sinding and Barbas stay where they are. "You two should go with them."

"You can't fight it alone!" Sinding says, coming up to her and leaving a few inches between them. "Let me help." Krosa doesn't know why, but she smiles. Of all the times to have people who care, it's this one.

"They matter more. Help them first." They give her a disapproving look, but she doesn't waste anymore time on them. They'll either listen or they won't, but Krosa needs to get to the dragon.

She rushes to the dragon's form, moving to unsheathe her sword. But she doesn't have a sword. She's never not had a sword. A pang of fear twists in her gut when she remembers her dream, lost in the moment of panic.

The dragon doesn't waste its chance. Shit. Krosa ducks and rolls out of the way of its bout of fire, cursing herself for her idiocy. She strikes it with lightning before it can attack her again. Its cry pierces the night.

The glow surrounding the dragon flickers and Krosa hits it with another bolt before it can recover. She's better prepared for the sound this time, but still it's unbearable.

She spots a sword lying next to a fallen guard, and she runs for it. The screeching ends but, a moment later, there's a booming sound and Krosa's being thrown back by an invisible force. She crashes through a wall and hits the floor with a resounding crack of her ribs.

Krosa cries out, seeing stars. She's broken many bones in her life— none of them her own. This is a new pain, one she doesn't know how to handle. She gasps when she tries to move and is met with a spasm of pain.

Krosa looks out of the hole in the wall. The dragon's trying to get up in the air but can't. It spouts fire everywhere in its frustration, crying out in agony. She understands his pain, if her broken ribs are anything to go by. But, then again, she's never had her skin sawed off or bones hacked at. She doesn't ever want to find out what that feels like.

She takes a deep breath to calm herself but inhales smoke and dust instead. Her coughing fit nearly renders her unconscious. Red flickering lights dance through her eyelids. She opens her eyes to the fire engulfing the walls around her. Soon, the fire is all she can see.

Sinding rushes into the building, praying to all the gods that he can think of, not caring whether they're Aedra or Daedra— or even Hircine himself. Any sort of help would be welcome to him now. Anything to ensure that Krosa will be alright. He doesn't know how anyone could have survived something like that, but he's also never met anyone like Krosa. If anyone could survive, it'd be her.

He calls out her name, listening intently for any sort of answer. Thick smoke plagues the air, making it hard to see and smell, but thankfully he still has his heightened sense of hearing. For once in his life, he's grateful for the beast blood that flows through him.

The first time he saw her, he was in prison— and he had just murdered a little girl. He had lost control and tore her limb from limb. Every minute in that cell, that cold and dark cell, was filled with despair and shame. He never thought he'd get to see the light of day. Then she came.

The second time he saw her, she was there to kill him. Sent by Hircine to retrieve what he had stolen. She waltzed into his cave. His refuge. Others were there as well— but she was the only one who came alone. He thought she was foolish. Especially when she let him live— though he was grateful beyond belief.

But then he saw her fight the other hunters and they tore through them together. He was savage and she was ruthless. Maybe, he thought, maybe this one won't be one of his victims.

"I'm surprised you were able to keep up," he says once the battle has ended.

"I'm surprised you haven't started eating them yet."

"Oh believe me, there'll be time for that later." Her face scrunches up in disgust as she turns away from him.

"Enjoy your dinner," is all she says before she starts to walk away. He doesn't know why, but he smiles.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" She doesn't answer, and eventually he can't even smell her. The large cave no longer seems as large as when he first came in here, and darkness soon starts to close in.

He broke his promise and followed her, but he couldn't help it. He was captivated by her, and his curiosity overwhelmed his logical side. It used to be whenever he could catch a whiff of her scent, but soon he'd find himself searching for her whenever he left to hunt. She was always alone and always on the move.

One day she came to the cave, wounded and seeking refuge from a storm. He let her stay, but she refused any other help. It's not like he could do much, anyway. He maimed and killed— he wasn't able to heal.

"What were you doing out there?"

"Same thing I always do."

He assumes she means helping others and saving the day. They didn't talk much after that, and he was sad to see her go. But then she came back and kept coming back. Some days it was with supplies; he wouldn't even see her, but her scent would linger.

The first time, he asked her why she was doing this. She only said that if it'll keep him from eating any people, it's worth the expense. He couldn't argue with that.

Other times were when she needed a place to stay. She would often come covered in blood— most of it not her own. He grew accustomed to her scent, but so did his beast. It hungered for a taste, and there were times where he nearly lost control. He often had to leave the cave to hunt before he could do anything he'd regret.

Despite the struggle, he always liked when she'd visit. He was always so lonely. She was the only other living being he was able to talk to, even if it wasn't much at first. They slowly started to warm up to each other; then Barbas came and life no longer seemed so dismal.

After all that time waiting for her to return, he can't lose her now. Not when he just got her back. Even if she survived the impact, the blast of fire surely would have— He hears a groan, and he sees her lying on the ground, struggling to get up. The flames haven't reached her yet, but they're about to.

"Krosa!" He runs over to her, happier than he's ever been.

"Sinding?" He moves to help her, an arm encircling her waist, but she cries out and shoves him away. "My ribs—"

"Anything else?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you're going to have to live with the pain, cause we need to get moving."

Krosa grimaces but nods.

He helps her up as gently as he can. They stumble through the smoke, Sinding using the smoke billowing out of the hole in the wall to help guide them out. He tries to get her out slowly, but they trip and fall through it instead. He barely believes it, but he's pretty sure he heard a soft whimper. However, he is certain of the agitation he can smell coming off her in waves. "You know, I never took you as the whining type."

"You're not funny."

"And you're crazy. Who forgets to bring a weapon to battle?"

"There's no time for this," Krosa says, slowly getting to her feet. Sinding thinks he sees her favoring a leg and can smell her blood, though he doesn't know where it's coming from.

"You can't fight like this."

"I can always fight."

"It doesn't mean you should."

Before she can reply, the smoke around them starts to clear. The dragon catches sight of them and lunges. Krosa shoves him to the side as she jumps out of the way.

Sinding recovers quickly and readies himself for its attack, but the dragon goes after her instead. An ice spike shoots from her hand and lands into its shoulder. The dragon cries out, growing relentless as it battles Krosa, who is struggling to keep up.

Sinding looks around for anything that could help and spots the burned remains of one of the guards. He runs to it, turning it over to find an axe clutched in his hand. Sinding pries it out and runs to the dragon, slashing at it savagely from behind. He feels the blood of his beast boiling as it decides it wants in on this fight as well, but he shuts it down just as savagely. He can't let it loose, not while Krosa's around.

The dragon's tail comes out of nowhere, ramming into his side and he's sent flying. He crashes to the ground, all air escaping from his lungs in one fell swoop. Before he can even think about trying to get up, the dragon pounces on him, its massive claws pinning him down and puncturing his chest as it roars into his face. Sinding tries to cover his ears as he closes his eyes, bracing himself for the end that is sure to come. For a brief, flashing moment, he thinks of Krosa.

"No. I'm not going. I don't want to hurt anyone." Sinding doesn't even know why she's suggesting the idea. He's always been adamant on this.

"I'll be there, so there's nothing to—"

He shakes his head, looking her in the eye, pleading for her to understand. "I don't want to hurt you."

She scoffs. "Believe me, you won't get the chance to."

But he nearly did, once.

He wasn't following her this time, but while he was hunting, he caught onto her scent, as well as others. She was attacked on the road, and he swooped in to help though she probably wouldn't have needed it. Once they were all dead, he couldn't reign the bloodlust in and he would have killed her too. She expertly evaded his attacks, and got in some hits of her own.

He managed to land a hit once, and immediately smelled the blood. Somehow he found control. The beast in him surrendered without much of a fight. Since then he made her promise to kill him if it came down to it, but it never did after that.

He lets her lead the way.

Sinding hears someone shout, but it sounds so far away. His ears ring, his head pounds— heart racing. Something drips onto his face, something warm and thick. The weight on his chest lifts. A blinding light burns through his eyelids, and he can feel a burst of wind swirling fiercely around him.

Someone cries out— Krosa cries out, and finally he opens his eyes. A pile of bones lay where the dragon once was. He turns to see Krosa on her knees, trembling and pale— her face contorted in pain as she struggles to breathe.

He tries to move, tries to go to her, but is met with pain. It is then that he sees the damage, the blood seeping out from his chest. I'm going to die.

"Krosa—" he gets out, his chest feeling like it's going to cave in.

Suddenly she's over him, saying his name, hands on his chest. Even though the worry on it is far from pleasant, if Krosa's face is the last thing he sees, he wouldn't mind dying so much. It's better than a dragon's, and it means that she cares. He feels an unbearable itch in his chest and realizes what she's doing. He doesn't have to look down to see that her hand is glowing faintly. It's not steady like he's seen it before, it's wavering, and he knows what that means. He places his hand over hers, keeping it from moving, clutching it like a lifeline.

"There's no point," he says when she shoots him a questioning look. Her face hardens.

"I can heal you," she says frantically, trying to tug her hand out of his, but he doesn't let her. He likes how it feels, and he knows she can't save him now. Not this time.

"No. You can't," he says, doing his best to smile. He wishes he could thank her for everything— to tell her just how much she meant to him. She shakes her head, growing angry, and he already knows what she's going to say.

"Yes I—"

He kisses her, his heart soaring when their lips meet. She barely starts to kiss him back before he pulls away. It didn't last long, but it was enough.

He feels himself start to fade, and he works through the pain to tell her. He needs to tell her, but he doesn't know how. How does one tell another the true depths of one's feelings? Especially when you're about to die. What good would it really do? But, he needs to say something— something so she knows how much she meant to him, even if it can't encompass everything.

With the last of his strength, he looks into her golden eyes and says, "So stubborn… I always liked that about you."

Tears sting both their eyes, and he wishes he could've had more courage before— he wishes that they'd had more time. But this is all the time he's been given. He was never a lucky guy to begin with. He closes his eyes, ready to meet his end.

"Slow down, will ya? You've been drinking those like a drunkard downs his ale," Barbas says to Krosa, and Krosa finishes off the healing potion before placing it next to the two other empty bottles she just downed. After the battle, the local alchemist was happy to supply Krosa with as many potions as she wanted. "It won't heal you any faster. You'll just get sicker or have to pee all day."

"It's driving me crazy."

"What is?"

"The pain. I've never— I don't know how to make it go away." Barbas looks at her for a moment, ears drooping.

"It wasn't your fault," he says quietly, and Krosa wonders if he'd had to convince himself of that as well.

"It was."

"No. Think about it. That dragon would have been here regardless, but since you were—"

"He came back for me," Krosa says, wishing it weren't true. If he had only listened and gone to help the others, but no. He had to ensure that she was okay because she was stupid enough to forget that she didn't have a damned sword.

"He waited for you, you know," Barbas says after several minutes of silence. "He always thought you would come back soon, but you never did. You never even sent a letter."

"He—" Krosa feels her face go red, and she nearly doesn't continue. She hopes Barbas doesn't answer, but still she finds the need to ask, "He kissed me before he— I— and he said something— did he—" She can't bring herself to finish, it was a stupid question anyway.

"Yeah," Barbas says as if it pains him. "He never told me outright. Never trusted that I wouldn't spill the beans or needle him about it, but I knew— and don't deny that you didn't. You just didn't want to deal with it, and he knew that. That's why he never told you."

Krosa has nothing to say to that, she knows that it is true. It's part of the reason why she was so eager to leave and jumped on the chance when she received the Jarl's letter. If it weren't for that letter, she probably would have ended up leaving without a word of warning. Krosa hates herself more than ever.

"What are you going to do now?" Barbas asks, and Krosa knows that he wants her to stay. But she can't, and he knows that she can't.

"I'll go to High Hrothgar, I think, wherever that is."

"You do realize what time of year it is, right?" Krosa rolls her eyes. Even she would have a hard time not noticing the drop in temperature and the snow littering the landscape. "How stupid are you?"

"Stupid or not, it has to be done."

"Dragonborn or not, it's suicide. You should wait till after winter—"

Krosa shrugs. "I'll survive, I always do."

Barbas grumbles, but doesn't say anything else.

"What about you," she asks once she thinks it's safe to do so, "has Clavicus—"

"I don't care about him anymore. I'll be staying with the Fair-Helms now. Ida wouldn't have it any other way," Barbas states, itching his face with his paw as he does so.

Krosa never knew why he was so adamant about returning to a pompous ass like that, and is glad to hear of the change. It won't be the same as with Sinding, but at least he'll have someone. Krosa gets up to leave, wondering how to say goodbye. Barba helps her out. He was never great at it either.

"You should visit when you can, well, if you don't die while climbing that blasted mountain."

"I will," Krosa says, and they give one last look to each other before going their separate ways.

Krosa has never been colder in her life. It's been days since she started climbing. At first, it was like any other mountain; the skies were clear with occasional bursts of snow. The view from the steps was beautiful: it was as if she could see all of Skyrim below her. Then came the blizzard, and now all she can see is white— all she can feel is the screeching wind cutting into her skin. She keeps climbing. One foot after another. Another set of bones littering the way.

Fire sparks to life in her hands in another attempt to warm herself, but it's no use. Not in weather like this. She can feel the warmth within her— the heat of the dragons' souls. She's willing to bet that if it wasn't for that, she'd already be dead. But it's not enough to keep her skin from turning white or to keep her body from violently shivering.

Krosa can feel their suffering, and she wonders if they can feel what she does— knows what she's thinking— and wonders if she's stuck with them for the rest of her life. At least they're quiet now.

The Fair-Helms were sorry to see her go, Hilda in particular. This time, when Hilda tried to gift her with a doll, Krosa gently refused. She'd only lose it like the last one, or ruin it in some way. Peter gave her his sword from the war— that, she accepted. It saves her the effort of trying to steal one for herself. Ida made sure she had enough supplies, and they all gave her tips on how to survive a Skyrim winter on her own. Somehow, she's always on her own again.

As she climbs, she lets her mind wander— she thinks about everything, about all the what-ifs— anything to distract her from the storm. She wonders what would have happened if she had stayed in Falkreath so long ago, or returned to Cyrodiil, or never have escaped Hammerfell at all. What if she had given Sinding a chance, or what if Brynjolf hadn't betrayed her.

For once, she lets herself admit that she misses their company. Again, she has to admit that she no longer likes being alone. More than anything, she wishes she was warm again.

She doesn't know how long it's been, but eventually the storm ends.

And then she sees it. High Hrothgar. It takes her a while to realize it's not just another part of the mountain. She nearly collapses in relief, but fear of being buried in the snow keeps her upright. She moves quicker and starts pounding on the massive stone doors. They open after an eternity of waiting; then Krosa's face to face with an elderly man in dark robes, and she knows that this is where she's meant to be.

The End!

The next installment is up and it's called: An Epic for the Ages

Author's Note: This chapter was rough, and it also took a while cause I've been getting into drawing again, and have made a picture of Krosa! If you want to see it, it's on my instagram crazystoryspinner and is literally the only thing on there.

Please leave a review to tell me what you think of the chapter (or picture)!