The foothills northeast of Whiterun marked the transition from tundra to snow, a fitting place for transitions of all kinds. Here, where the ground dipped into an ancient depression, Aegrotarion found himself seeking yet another relic of human ambition - this time, a crown. The mission proved straightforward enough; his arrows found their marks when needed, though he kept his more distinctive abilities in check given the number of witnesses present.
The crown made its way to Windhelm's Palace of Kings, where Ulfric - the would-be High King - traded one symbol of power for another. An axe passed into Aegrotarion's possession, heavy with both steel and significance. The Bosmer accepted this burden with the same detachment he showed toward most political matters, viewing it as just another thread in the tapestry of human conflicts.
Yet fate had other plans.
Whiterun's court buzzed with an energy that had nothing to do with civil wars or crowns. Dragons. The word itself seemed to shift the air in the great hall. Aegrotarion, maintaining his characteristic lack of ceremony, approached the throne with the axe, only to find his message from Windhelm overshadowed by tales of destruction at Helgen. The shift in his attention was immediate - from messenger of war to seeker of truth. Politics could wait; dragons could not.
The court wizard's request led them toward Bleak Falls Barrow, with a night's rest in Riverwood marking the pause between one chapter and another. It was here that Stenvar first noticed the change in his companion's approach. The bow, Aegrotarion's constant companion, remained secured to his pack as they ascended the mountain path.
The first test of this new strategy came with the bandit guards. Stenvar, veteran of countless battles, expected the familiar dance of steel and blood. Instead, he witnessed something entirely different. As the first warrior charged, lightning crackled from Aegrotarion's palm - but this was no ordinary destruction spell. The lightning carried with it rifts in time itself, sending the bandit stumbling backward through moments that hadn't happened yet, their attack becoming a memory before it began.
Deep within the barrow, this mastery over space and time proved even more dramatic against the draugr. Their mighty swings found only empty air as Aegrotarion's temporal bolts sent them reeling through pockets of displaced time, their attacks becoming exercises in futility.
But it was in the webbed corridors that Stenvar and the others witnessed something far more primal. The distant cries of a trapped voice triggered something in Aegrotarion that transcended mere magic. As spider silk thickened along the walls, their companion underwent a transformation that defied explanation. The air grew heavy with the scent of forest loam, impossible this deep underground. Green magic swirled around Aegrotarion's form as he motioned for them to stay back.
What emerged through that web-covered doorway was no longer the slight Bosmer they knew, but a Horned Lord, ancient and terrible. The massive spider that dropped from above met its end in seconds, torn asunder along with Arvel and any undead unfortunate enough to be in the chamber. The sounds that reached the party spoke of violence beyond mortal capacity, yet carried the strange silence of a forest in winter.
When they finally caught up, they found Aegrotarion lounging in the chamber, restored to his normal form, casually inquiring about the golden claw as if the previous display of primal force had been nothing more than a passing storm. He retraced their path, converting the fallen to flora, maintaining his connection to the Green even in this place of stone and death.
Stenvar watched this ritual with new eyes. He'd served many employers in his time as a blade for hire, but none quite like this. In Aegrotarion, he saw something that straddled multiple worlds - not quite mortal, not quite divine, walking the line between order and chaos with the same ease that he walked between time and space.
The descent into Bleak Falls Barrow had started as a simple quest for a stone tablet. It had become something else entirely - a glimpse into the true nature of their companion, and perhaps, a hint at the greater role he might play in the events to come. As they pressed deeper into the ancient Nordic ruin, Stenvar couldn't help but wonder if the dragons' return and Aegrotarion's unique abilities were somehow connected in the grand tapestry of fate that seemed to be unfolding around them.
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