I hook two fingers under the polished‑steel mask and slide it up to my hairline, using it like a headband. Wind snaked through the roofless corridor behind me and nudged me outside. I step over the threshold of the ruined keep, barefoot soles meeting frosted flagstone. Cold should cut; it only tingles, like mint on skin. I spread my toes, feeling the ground. It might be odd, but being barefoot felt right, though I kept the boots in my storage for now. I glance toward the black water lapping the beach below and shiver.
"Not swimming again," I mutter.
The island lies silent except for surf and the occasional crack of settling ice. My cloak flutters around bare calves as I pick a path downhill, avoiding loose shale. Halfway to the beach, a bloated horker snores on a rock shelf, whiskers twitching. I pause. The animal's only crime is existing where I'm hungry. I circle wide; no need to waste blood or energy on rubbery blubber I don't actually want to eat.
I walked the edge where water barely kissed toes, scanning for driftwood, anything useful. Now and then, the landscape stutters. One blink, and a stone cottage stands intact, window boxes overflowing; the next blink, it's rubble again. Children flicker in and out, chasing ribbon‑tails on phantom kites; their laughter hangs a split second too long, then rips away on the wind. I keep moving, jaw tight.
Another flash: our refugee ship, sails snapping, men heaving at lines, my father's standard whipping white against the night while Nord raiders swarm the shore. I grit my teeth, dig fingers into the pier's splintered post until wood creaks. When I blink, the vision's gone, only gulls screeching over rotten timbers.
"Filthy animals," I whisper. Words feel good sliding out.
The night smells of salt and pine tar. I crouch, brush frost off a warped plank, and scrape a thumbnail along the grain, dry enough to burn later. Two more go into my storage for later, just in case.
Walking again, I test my brain for spells, but there's Nothing. It's like reaching into pockets you know are empty but doing it anyway, hoping magically there would be money.
A thin laugh escapes. "How is it that I don't even know a basic spell?" The surf answers with a hiss.
Another memory‑flash to the right: a line of elders bowing as I pass, crystal pauldrons gleaming. The overlay vanishes before I finish turning my head. I exhale through my nose, slow and even, and keep trudging.
I slid my Mask down over my eyes; the steel is ice‑cold but oddly comforting. I let my head rest back against stone, watching cloud‑tatters race past two moons, and speak to the night because why not.
"Okay, Ellehish, food zero, magic zero." My voice echoes shorter than it should; the wind steals the rest. That was this body's name, it was an odd feeling to call myself that.
I climb until the beach noise fades, trading rolling surf for the dry hiss of wind through scrub pines. The moon's gone behind clouds. Three minutes up a narrow goat path, and the first hunger jab lands. I scan the slope, mostly rock and leather-leaf shrubs, but near a boulder, I spot a patch of winterthorn, blueberries. I kneel, sniff one. Faint tart scent, no rot, no bird corpses nearby, so hopefully it was safe to eat.
I pluck a handful and pop one between my molars, sour-sweet, pithy, gritty. My stomach stops complaining long enough to process the surprise flavor. I pluck 20 more, palm sticky with juice, then think of the system's inventory tab.
A subvocal flick, the same gesture I used to dismiss chat donations, brings up the faint holo-grid. I will the berries into the invisible slot; they vanish with a soft ping, little icon blinking x6. Nice. While I eat the rest.
Memory tries to ambush me again: flash of a banquet hall, silver platters, sweet-wine steam curling above roast horker. I shut the thought off before smell triggers deeper hunger.
Now magic. I point two fingers at a frost-cracked pebble and whisper, "Flare." Nothing. I try "Frost,""MageLight," even that cheesy novice spell everyone spams: "Spark.". Well, it was worth a try; what was to say spells didn't work like that?
I blow out a breath, watch it crystallize. "Fine, we brute-force life."
A ridge ahead levels into a shallow saddle between peaks. From there, I should see both coasts. I shoulder uphill, slippered feet finding purchase on frost-slick stone. Halfway, a vision flicks on: the path swarming with market stalls, merchants in ice-blue cloaks yelling prices for their items. Someone brushes my shoulder, warm, real, then pop, nothing but wind again. I grunt and keep climbing.
North slope tapering into pine forest; south cliffs fractured into sea stacks. Far inland, a thin column of wood-smoke curls, maybe a settlement or a hunter's camp. Between me and smoke sits a pocket of black-glass boulders where tundra yams sometimes grow; I remember that detail with zero idea how I know it. Right, if I were going down there, it would be best to but those boots on. And so I did.
Decision locked. I tug one berry from storage, roll it across my tongue while planning the route. The ridge trail drops straight north, easy footing, nothing lurking. Half an hour, maybe more, hard to judge a watch. A single howl rolls over the pines. High-pitched, thin, the sound a kid makes. It cuts off halfway.
I stop mid-step.
Second howl, same spot. Quicker this time, shaky. Definitely young and definitely not one of those scripted pack choruses. Something is scared and alone.
"All right, pup," I murmur, adjusting the cloak around my shoulders. "Let's see who's bullying you."
I angle off the main trail, slipping between trunks. Terrain stays friendly: level ground, sparse undergrowth. Moonlight sifts through branches.
The forest smells of pine pitch and cold sap. Every fifty paces, I stop, listen. That soft whimper-howl repeating at uneven intervals. A faint orange pulse blinks through the trees ahead. Firelight. I crouch behind a fallen spruce, nose wrinkling at wood-smoke and something sourer, wet dog, iron. Another whine drifts with the smoke.
Closer now, I can pick shapes: single campfire in a clearing, rickety cage beside it, canvas thrown over the bars. No movement except the canvas jerking each time the captive yelps.
I draw a slow breath through my teeth. "Easy." No plan yet, but my feet are already edging forward, pine needles muffling my steps.
Twenty feet out, the air shifts; someone must be tending that fire, because a shadow rises, tall, broad-shouldered. The sound Steel makes when pulled from a scabbard; the man turns, voice gravel:
"Whoever's skulking, come out. You're louder than a troll with gout."
So much for sneaking. I push to standing height, let the cloak fall open so my empty hands show in the fireglow. "Evening," I say, tone flat. His red-gold ember eyes skim me warily.
"Dunmer," I note, dark ash skin, fur layers, sword steady. He looks me over, no backpack, and snorts. "Wrong night for sightseeing, girl."
"Not sightseeing." My gaze flicks to the shivering canvas. "That's yours?"
He shifts to block my line of sight, chin lifting. "Found it before it found me. Plan to sell it alive, pays better than pelts."
Another muffled whimper. My fingers twitch.
"Kind of pathetic," I say, voice low, "caging something that small."
"It's business. Move along."
I could. But I won't, even if it was incredibly stupid of me. The scared howl, I just couldn't ignore it for some reason. "Look," I start, stepping left, his blade tracks me."How about we negotiate—"
"Last warning," he barks, sword raised.
In the distance, deeper in the tree line, a separate sound answers the pup: a long, adult howl, rolling and furious.
The Dunmer's grip falters, head jerking toward the dark. I smile behind polished steel.
"Guess Mommies here," I whisper, then bolt for the cage. The pup's panicked yelps echo sharply through the clearing. I cross the distance in three long strides. My pulse pounds loud enough in my ears to drown out common sense.
Behind me, more howls split the night, deep and throaty, nothing at all like the child's frightened cries. The Dunmer spins, weapon raised towards the shadows, confusion flickering across his face.
I take my opening.
"Hang tight, kid," I growl, reaching out to grab the cage door, fingers wrapping tight around cold silver bars. Pain hits instantly, a sharp, fiery burn tearing through skin. I snatch my hand back with a hiss, the scent of scorched flesh bitter in my nostrils.
"Fucking silver," I spit, fingers throbbing.
The cage rattles as the small werewolf inside scrabbles backward, wide eyes staring at me through the bars, terror shining bright in that pale gaze. Every instinct I've got screams at me to run, but I didn't come here just to turn tail.
I clench my jaw, bracing myself. "Okay. Second try. No touching this time." Taking two quick breaths, I wrap a scrap of my cloak around my palms and seize the bars again. Pain knives through the fabric, dulled but still brutal, skin sizzling beneath cloth. With a furious roar, I wrench the door sideways. Metal screeches, hinges pop, and the door snaps clean off in my grip, clattering heavily to the dirt.
The pup bolts immediately, fur streaked with grime as it scrambles toward the tree line. I turn, triumphant, and find myself face-to-face with the Dunmer's blade.
"You gods-damned fool—" he snarls, eyes wild with panic as deeper howls sound closer, louder now. "They'll kill us both!"
"Wrong." My voice drops, a low, dangerous rasp as my vision darkens, sharpening to edges and heat. Something primal stirs in my chest, clawing upwards, hungry for freedom. A blue glow floods my sight, pulse racing. "They'll kill you."
He swings, steel whistling inches from my face. Instinct kicks in—I duck low, roll away, shoulder skimming dirt. Coming up crouched, I feel bones shift, elongate, teeth sharpening into fangs as my fingertips prickle with growing claws. Pain flares through every muscle as fur spills across my skin, ears sharpening, senses flooding with new intensity.
This feels right. Feels powerful.
"Let's try that again," I snarl, voice rougher now, edged with a growl. My eyes blaze a clear, brilliant blue through the steel mask, and the Dunmer recoils, realizing too late exactly what he's fighting.
"Werewolf!" he shouts, panic pitching his voice high. "Filthy beast!"
Behind him, the tree line explodes. A massive shape leaps from the dark, shadow becoming muscle and claws mid-air. Before the Dunmer can pivot, an enormous werewolf crashes down upon him, fangs sinking deep into his shoulder. He screams once, a ragged, broken sound, then goes silent with a final crunch as he is ripped apart.
Gold eyes glare down at me with undisguised contempt, lips peeling back from crimson-stained teeth. "You shouldn't be here," she growls, deep voice. More shapes slip from the shadows, circling the clearing, her pack closing in. The pup whimpers softly from the bushes, and one of the smaller werewolves darts forward, scooping it gently into waiting arms before fading back into darkness.
"I just saved one of your pups," I snap back, hackles raised. "A 'thank you' would be nice."
She lunges, jaws snapping inches from my throat. My muscles tense, but something inside me surges forward. Time slows, a crimson mist seeping from my pores, my cloak billowing as I come to rest, crouched atop sturdy limbs thirty feet off the ground.
She snarls from below, rage glittering gold in her eyes. The rest of her pack circles beneath, noses raised, scenting my strange power in the wind. I'm outnumbered.
"Coward!" she roars. "You're just a runt hiding behind magic!"
I bristle, anger boiling deep. "Call me whatever you want from down there. Last I checked, I'm not the one who lost a pup to a random Dunmer."
Her answering roar rattles the trees, sends smaller werewolves cowering back. "Come down and I'll rip out your throat!"
"I'll pass, sweetheart." My claws tighten, bark flaking beneath my grip. "But you can enjoy licking elf blood off your teeth. That's all the snack you're getting tonight."
Her lips curl back, frustration clear in every twitch of muscle. She hurls herself upwards, powerful limbs carrying her. I drop from my perch past her before she snaps the branch I was on. Before I can even straighten, the alpha's vicious snarl splits the air, and the entire pack surges forward in a blur of teeth and claws.
"Shit!" I spin on my heel, adrenaline pumping fire through my veins. They're coming fast, too damn fast, and suddenly the forest feels impossibly tight. I dodge right, branches clawing at my face as one werewolf lunges past, massive jaws snapping shut inches from my cloak. Another leaps from the shadows, forcing me to duck beneath its swipe. My pulse slams hard, each beat like thunder.
"Can't keep this up," I gasp, mind racing. Another burst of Elder Blood wells up, Red mist envelops me, blurring my vision before clearing instantly as I reappear ten feet away. The wolves pause, confused only for a heartbeat, before pivoting sharply, locked onto my scent again. Their golden eyes blaze murderously between the trees, reflecting dim moonlight like embers.
I can hear them, padding closer, I risk another glance back, see flickers of fur. Too many. Too close. Another surge of Elder Blood flares. The red smoke swirls wildly, chaotic, and suddenly I'm sprawled twenty feet away, hitting the ground hard. Gravel bites into my palms; pain shoots up my wrists.
"Goddammit," I snarl, I force myself to stand, lungs heaving like bellows, heart pounding wildly in my chest. Branches whip past me, cutting shallow lines across my skin as I push forward. Behind me, the pack closes in. Their breathing is steady, I could hear it, and honestly, I should never have gotten involved.
"You're persistent assholes," I mutter bitterly, breath misting in the cold air. Another surge of Elder Blood thrums within me. Red mist envelops my body as I leap forward, reappearing further down the trail, stumbling slightly from the disorientation.
A sudden break in the treeline looms ahead. The distant rush of water grows louder, deafening, roaring. I sprint towards it, hope rising in my chest. If it's what I think it is, maybe, just maybe…
Bursting from the forest, I skid to a halt at the river's edge. It's huge, a vast stretch of dark, turbulent water cutting through the landscape. The surface ripples and churns angrily, too wide to swim easily, and undoubtedly frigid enough to kill a human in moments. I grin, teeth flashing white in the darkness.
"Looks like luck is finally turning my way," I gasp out, spinning around to see the werewolves emerge, prowling from the trees, golden eyes narrowed and hungry. The Alpha stalks forward slowly, her fur bristling as she reads the confidence in my stance.
"No escape," she growls, low and menacing.
"Oh, sweetheart," I respond, a sharp smirk on my lips. "Watch me."
The red mist engulfs me again, swirling chaotically, and suddenly I'm standing precariously on a mid-river rock, boots slipping dangerously. I stabilize, gasping at the icy spray that lashes my cheeks. The wolves pause at the riverbank, snarling furiously, frustrated by the barrier between us.
Another teleport takes me farther, onto a narrow gravel bar. Then another, and another, each jump draining me further. Finally, I stumbled onto the far shore, chest heaving. I spin to face my pursuers, still pacing angrily at the opposite bank, their snarls barely audible above the river's roar.
I raise a shaky hand, extending my middle finger high into the night air. "Fuck you very much!" I shout triumphantly, a raw laugh bubbling up from deep within me, wild and breathless.
The alpha werewolf throws her head back, unleashing a howl of pure rage and frustration, echoed by her pack as they pace helplessly. I turn away, the victorious grin still plastered across my lips, stumbling toward the relative safety of the unknown, my laughter fading slowly into the darkness.