Dawnstar was, frankly, horrible. It was just as cold as Winterhold, if not colder. And its proximity to the Ghost Sea caused a sea breeze to blow the cold to even a troll’s core. No wonder everyone was working in the mines; it’s warm in there.
I made my way to the inn, slowly and somewhat angrily. While it was nice to talk to Tolfdir, it was infuriating to not get a good night’s sleep, especially two nights in a row. The inn itself was nearly empty, despite the early time. I can’t say I wasn’t surprised, though; who’s expected to visit a place as cold as Atmora itself?
I walked up to the counter and groggily asked, “May I get a room?”
“Sure, as long as you’ve got the coin.” The innkeeper said, without even turning around to acknowledge me.
I set a few septims down on the counter and made my way toward one of the rooms.
“That one’s being used. Try the one on the other side.” The innkeeper said, still not turning around.
“Thanks,” I mumbled back. “Is everyone here this cheery?” I asked sarcastically.
“For the most part, yeah. If you’re looking for someone who’s actually happy, just get the Jarl started on Talos. I’ve never seen a man so excited about anything.” I chuckled at this and walked toward the room, setting my things down on the bed and sitting for a moment.
In all honesty, I could probably use some cheerfulness right now. If only Claudia was here… I thought. I mentally scolded myself a bit for the thought. But then I realized how long ago it seemed since we’d met. I guess my little talk with Tolfdir helped.
“I hope I can get some good sleep, then…” I said, letting my head hit the straw on the bed. I was truly looking forward to some downtime in Dawnstar; no adventures, no all-night enchanting sessions, and no women.
I woke up, but something felt… different; like I was weightless. Then I opened my eyes. I was floating in a vast nothingness, surrounded on all sides by nothing but black. But I could feel the presence of something. I’d never felt anything like it before. It seemed to have a magical blueprint all its own, as if the entire thing was pure magicka. I could feel it coming closer; I was feeling dread and curiosity at the same time.
Then it came into view. The object itself truly appeared to be made out of pure magicka. It was a writhing mass of energy, bound together so tightly as to appear tangible. I slowly reached out, trying to touch it. But just as my hand did so, the ball retracted slightly, leaving an indent where my hand was, only for it to fill back in with energy a split second later. I was mesmerized; the creature’s very nature was ever-changing; color, type of energy, etc. Although I knew by then it was a dream, it felt so real; I didn’t want it to end.
Then it spoke. Lacking a mouth, or any sort of physical presence, the being spoke.
“Mag… …danger… …Mzinchaleft…” That was all I could make out. It was as if the being spoke to my very soul, yet in some unknown language. Then the being retracted slowly, fading out of view bit by bit. I tried to will it to stay, to tell it I hadn’t understood, but it seemed oblivious.
My eyes shot open. I literally jumped out of bed and began to rummage through my bags. I got out my notebook, as well as the scrying orb, and placed them on the table in the room. I wrote down what I had seen and heard immediately, wracking my brain to try to figure out what it meant. I finished writing within a few minutes, and, quite sure that I’d never heard of this ‘Mzinchaleft,’ decided to contact Tolfdir once again. I sent a huge stream of magicka through the sphere, as much as I could spare. I waited for a few seconds, although they felt more like hours.
“Hello?” Tolfdir answered, obviously quite tired after our chat the night before.
“Tolfdir!” I shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly. “I have something that I need your help with.”
“My boy, we went over this; you can’t hang onto her forever-“
“Not that, Tolfdir!” I said, somewhat embarrassed. “I mean something new.”
“Well then, by all means!” Tolfdir said, a smile on his face.
“I’ve had a dream. Well, perhaps ‘vision’ would be a more appropriate term. You see…” I went on to explain my rather vivid dream to Tolfdir, while he sat and listened quietly.
“Hmm… this is disturbing, indeed. Do you know anything about where you might have been? What this… being is?” Tolfdir said.
“No, I don’t know anything except what it said. It mentioned a place called-“
“Mzinchaleft; yes, I’ve heard of it before. It’s an old Dwemer ruin, not too far from Dawnstar.”
“Tolfdir, what should I do? How did this thing know my location if it wasn’t even a part of this world? It shouldn’t even be sentient without a brain, or a soul, or… whatever Daedra have!”
“Calm down, my boy! Now, you said that this being mentioned danger? Well, then perhaps you should go check out the ruin. I’m sure there will be something of use to your research there, if nothing else. I wouldn’t suggest going alone, though. Is there anything else?”
“No,” I said tentatively.
“Tell me if anything else pops up, then. Good luck!” Tolfdir cut off the connection before I could respond.
“Damn!” I shouted, then picked up my things and walked out of the room. The innkeeper watched me walk out, but I’m not surprised he did. I had certainly made a spectacle of myself over the past few minutes: waking up at sunset, immediately scribbling in a notebook, talking to a piece of glass, then storming out of the inn, saying nothing. Not like I particularly cared what he thought; I had a mission, now.
First on my list of things to do was visit Nightcaller Temple. I doubted the Jarl of the Pale would believe some newcomer’s story about danger from an old, abandoned ruin. Even if he did, I wouldn’t bet he’d give me a detachment of soldiers to storm the place with. The priest at Nightcaller Temple, though, had helped stop the nightmares here in Dawnstar a few years ago; perhaps he would listen to me. I don’t know how, but I had to gather an exploratory team, in a town I’ve never been in, filled with miners and Stormcloaks.
Well, there goes my downtime.
To be continued…
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