It vanished with a final, questioning whisper: “Who… am I?”
The snows of Solstheim do not forgive weakness. Vika had learned that lesson the hard way, carving her name into the island’s frozen bones with nothing but a stolen steel axe and a will harder than Stalhrim. vika elder scrolls
She was hunting a horker near the southern ice fields when the air grew thick and wrong. The sky, bruised purple and grey, began to bleed. A rift tore open above the ruins of an old Imperial fort—a shimmering wound in reality, spitting shards of coldfire and the smell of ozone. It vanished with a final, questioning whisper: “Who…