Resurgence of the Dragon Cult

Dear Hananinel,

In all my years of travelling the Empire, Titus Mede the First to present day, few things has been as strange as the Void Nights in 4E98. But the return of the Dragons to my beloved Skyrim is certainly a contender.

Many will scoff at the reports from the north. The Dragons were, after all, nearly driven to extinction in the Dragon Wars and those who did not were hunted down by the Dragonguard. Reports, few and far between and with less credibility than a Khajiit sugar-eater, mention Dragons later than this.

Yet I have seen them. More than once. A stranger, whom I regret to say I cannot for the life of me recall, saved my life from one, as I crossed the border from the Rift to Eastmarch. But this was many years ago. The Bards sing of Alduin’s defeat now, whatever the truth of it.

Since then the reports of Dragons have lessened, but they come in from time to time. But that is not what is calling me to the pen now. I have seen, with my own eyes, that the forbidden arts of Nordic magic, the Thu’um, has been seen outside High Hrothgar and the Palace of Kings. People of no name, from small villages of no note.

Wary that I might be thought one of the cursed Thalmor, I stayed out of their path, as I have with most people on the roads in the Empire. When I visited my cheerful friend Ulundil Horsemaster, he too had noticed this strange trend, saying that one of them had taken to a bed in Candlehearth Hall. My curiosity outweighing my caution, I simply had to interview this person.

I found her in the Great Room on the second floor, staying as far from the Bard as possible. After politely asking if she would entertain company, I asked why she didn’t sit closer to the musician. After all, I reasoned, she was quite good and kept the cheer up with the other patrons.

“I must not sing with her,” she answered me, with a hesitant voice. It was surprisingly deep for even a Nord woman, though her face and bust left no doubt that that is what she was. I asked her why not, for I had always found most Nords to be more than willing to chime in with the Bards. Especially after a few rounds of their spirits. “If I lose control, I will disappoint the Elder.”

“Your village elder?”

“No, the Elder. He is our mentor, our Drog. And we his Vahlok.”

I did not understand what she meant and she excused herself before I could inquire further. Said she had to return home. Rather than give up on the idea, I discretely asked the barkeep, a portly Nord woman who stuck her nose up at me, if there were any good hunters in the inn. She directed me in the direction of some Bosmer from Whiterun.

It took some convincing, and I had to lighten the weight of my coin purse, to make him agree, but finally he decided it was worth shadowing this woman to see where she went. For days we trailed her, trying to keep up with her. We could not ever start fires to warm our bones in the night, in fear that she would discover us.

It took a week before we reached our goal and I started to fear my fingers would never regain their mobility. The Bosmer and I snuck into the village our mark had led us too, finding it empty. Yet everything hinted to the place being inhabited. My guide pointed to a cave to the north, into the mountainside.

The cave was well lit, containing a path built from wood to the upper levels. It looked to have been a recent addition. Around it there was rubble, among which the architecture of the ancient Nords could sometimes be seen.

On the other side, we saw maybe a hundred people on their knees in front of a monolith of sorts. It was curved with old symbols carved into it. And on top there was a live Dragon, as real as the one who nearly ended my life so many years before.

“Fahliil,” it said and the villagers got to their feet. I expected them to kill us right then and there, but they did not. They simply sent me on my way, with food for the trip.

Yours truly,

Lachiniane of Firsthold

Publishers Note: This letter was found in an empty room in Kynesgrove, which was the last place Lachiniane was last seen. No one has been able to track down Henaninel either. They were perhaps cover names, or perhaps they have returned to Aetherius.

More importantly, this is believed to be the first time an outsider witnessed what has now become a phenomenon in the northern lands. More and more people wielding the Forbidden Arts are being reported and the phrase “Dragon Cult” is on everyone’s lips. No one has attacked the Divines of the Nords yet, but many priests have expressed concern with losing their flock to these heathens.