SFX: CRRRRKKKK—!
The archway sealed behind them with a sound like a glacier cracking.
The sixth spiral was no longer a staircase—it was a ribbon of night sky, wide enough for two, suspended over nothing. Comets drifted past in slow arcs, each tail carrying a whisper from those who never reached the summit.
"...Mother..."
"...Sorry..."
"...Home..."
Each word brushed their skin like cold breath before fading into frost.
Shade and Lira walked in silence until the ribbon widened into a jagged platform of black glass. Beyond it arched a broken bridge of stone and ice, stretching toward a floating continent veiled in ash and ruin.
The brand across Shade's chest began to burn.
SFX: HSSSSHHH!
A pulse of silver light erupted from his ribs, weaving itself into form—a living parchment of starlight, its edges flickering with blue fire.
The Nightmare Realm unfolded before them in miniature.
THE TRUE MAP
The Shattered Expanse – obsidian plain, entry wound.
Glasswood – memory trees, already crossed.
Drowning Choir – black sea, unseen.
Venom Galleries – scorpion's grave.
Forsaken Skyrim – the floating continent ahead, marked with a dragon skull.
The Dead Zone – a blot of absolute black, no details.
Astral Tower – the spire at the center, summit glowing like a dying star.
The map folded in on itself, becoming a crystal compass, which settled against Shade's heart with a soft pulse—thump… thump…—warm as life. The brand was gone. The knowledge, his.
Lira's eyes followed the ghostly bridge. "That's where the dragon-knights fell."
The bridge trembled. An invitation.
They crossed.
The Forsaken Lands of Skyrim
The tundra was made of black ash and frozen blood.
SFX: WHOOOOSH—! The wind howled through the ribs of a colossal dragon skeleton that formed the spine of the land.
Its skull—larger than a keep—grinned at the void, empty sockets burning with ghost-fire. Above, snow fell upward, twisting into the comet trails.
Ruins littered the landscape:
A grand hall split in two, banquet tables frozen mid-toast—stone goblets raised forever.
A forge where hammers still rose and fell in slow motion, sparks drifting upward like reverse rain.
A child's swing, creaking though no wind stirred it.
Creak… creak… creak...
Shade knelt beside a tattered banner, its crimson silk long turned gray. Dragons once embroidered there had been picked apart, thread by thread.
"They thought they could siege the tower," he murmured. "An army against a dream."
Lira brushed her fingers across a dragon rib. Frost bloomed beneath her touch, forming glowing runes:
WE SOUGHT THE DOOR.
THE DOOR SOUGHT US.
SFX: RUMMMMMBLE—!
A deep growl rolled across the ash.
The ground exploded.
SFX: KRAK-THOOM!
From the snow burst a Wrathhound—massive as a bear, its body forged of smoked glass and writhing shadows. Two eyes burned blue-white, and behind it dragged chains made from shattered dragon scales.
The beast howled, a sound that split the clouds.
Shade drew the night-forged sword. SHING!
Lira raised the lantern, its flame flaring gold.
SFX: GRRRRROAAAAR—!!
The Wrathhound charged.
Shade met it head-on. CLANG—!! Constellations flared as blade met glass-hide. The impact drove him to one knee, sparks scattering.
Lira's lantern swept across the monster's face. FWOOOOSH! Golden fire scorched its eyes. The Wrathhound roared, blinded, chains whipping like meteors.
Shade rolled beneath a claw, slashing low. SHHK—! Black ichor hissed as it hit the ground, melting the ash into glass.
Then the tail—barbed with dragon teeth—lashed out. CRACK!
It caught Lira across the ribs. She flew, the lantern spinning from her hand.
"LIRA!"
SFX: CRASH—!!
The lantern shattered against the dragon's skull.
Light exploded—KRAKOOOOOM!—white and searing.
The Wrathhound shrieked as the blast tore a rift in the air, a wound between worlds.
Shade dove for her, hand outstretched—
But the pull of the rift was too strong.
Wind howled. WHOOOOOM!
The compass at his chest burned.
Lira reached for him—fingers brushed—
SNAP!
The rift closed.
Separation
SFX: THUD—!
Shade slammed into stone hard enough to rattle teeth. His sword clattered away into the dark.
A faint torch flickered to life.
He was in a throne room—columns of black marble, tattered banners, and snow drifting through a fractured ceiling. Upon the throne sat a skeleton in dragonbone armor, a melted crown fused to its skull.
The Fallen Kingdom. Skyrim's heart—preserved in death.
The map-compass glowed faintly. A single rune pulsed.
LIRA – DEAD ZONE
Miles away. Maybe worlds.
Lira landed in silence.
Her feet sank into gray dust beneath a sky without stars. The air was thick with stillness. All around her, bones jutted from the ground like white spears—human, dragon, other.
This was the Dead Zone.
The place the tower itself dared not look at.
Her lantern was gone. The apple tree tattoo on her chest flickered weakly, its glow fading.
Far away, a figure moved—tall, hooded, dragging chains that sang against the dust.
CHHHH-CHHHH-CHHHH...
Lira straightened, blood trickling from her ribs—but silver threads laced the wound shut. The map's final gift before abandoning her.
"...Shade."
Her whisper was devoured by the gray air.
She began to walk. The chains in the distance stirred.
CHHHH... CHHHHH...
Back in the throne room, Shade retrieved his blade.
The skeleton's jaw creaked open. GRRRAAAK...
A voice like ice over stone spoke:
"The girl is lost. The summit calls. Choose."
Shade's grip tightened around the hilt.
"I choose her."
He stepped through the snow. The map-compass pulsed once, brighter than ever, pointing north—toward a gate of dragon ribs that opened into the void beyond.
The final spiral awaited.
But first—he had to cross hell to reach her.
SFX: FOOOOOSH...!
The snow closed behind him.