Chapter 8

My breath hitched as the stranger’s blade skimmed my skin, leaving a searing trail in its wake. A crimson ribbon of my own blood, trickling down my neck in a silent testament to my vulnerability. In that moment, I couldn't help but wonder how I, the hunter, had become the hunted.

He exhaled softly, the sound brushing against my ear like a whisper, his lips parting with deliberate slowness. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip in a gesture that felt more intimate than it had any right to be. Panic surged within me, screaming at me to flee, but the blade pressed harder against my throat, a cold promise that I was going nowhere.

Without a warning, his tongue traced the trail of my blood. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of heat and cold, of violation and something darkly thrilling.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything—especially not this.

Yet, a soft moan escaped my lips, the sound trembling between disgust and a reluctant, undeniable arousal.

His eyes, dark and smoldering, locked onto mine, drinking in my reaction with satisfaction. His smile was wicked, almost feral, as if he had peeled away every last one of my defenses and found the most vulnerable part of me exposed, trembling, and at his mercy.

"Cold," he whispered against my neck, his voice a haunting melody that sent a delicious shiver down my spine. "Yet hot."

His breath ghosted over my skin, a chilling contrast to the heat that pooled in my core, and before I could fully comprehend the intoxicating mixture of sensations, he pulled back. The dagger slipped back into its sheath with a practiced ease, leaving me gasping.

Instinctively, my hand flew to my neck, fingers brushing over the still-warm trickle of blood. The sting was real, grounding me, but it did little to erase the lingering imprint of his presence.

I frowned as I looked up, searching his face for any hint of the emotion that had just passed between us, but found that the intensity of a moment ago buried beneath a cold, calculating gaze.

“I’m Amon,” he said, his lips curling into a smile that was almost too perfect, too polished. As he dipped into a soft bow, his pale hair cascaded across his forehead, revealing pointy ears adorned with silver rings that caught the faint light. The piercings glinted against his almost ghostly complexion, marking him unmistakably as an Altmer, though one unlike any I had encountered before.

“What did you just do to me?” I demanded, my voice trembling with barely contained fury.

“Tasted you, simply,” he replied, with an indifferent shrug that only served to enrage me further.

“Is this how you greet all your sisters?” I spat, my voice sharp with disgust. “Stopping them in the middle of nowhere just to get a taste?”

“Stop you?” he repeated, feigning innocence, though the mocking lilt in his voice was unmistakable. “No, no, dear sister. I was merely deciding which way to go.” His gaze flicked nonchalantly to the crossroads ahead, as if it held any real significance for him.

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“Cut it,” I snapped, refusing to let his game continue. I stepped closer, my eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What do you want from me?”

“No fun, are we?” Amon attempted to sound disappointed, though the smirk on his lips betrayed his amusement. When I refused to answer, he continued, “Well, I’m the new initiate. Colymna told me I’d learn a lot from you. The famous, Ashenblade.” His words were laced with a subtle challenge, his eyes glinting with mischief.

I sighed in frustration, my expression betraying my irritation. Colymna, the Speaker of the Dawnstar Sanctuary, had always been a thorn in Astrid's side. She aligned herself too closely with the Stormcloaks for Astrid's liking, and her decision to send this vampire to me made little sense.

“Why did she send you?” I asked, my tone edged with suspicion.

“I think she hoped you’d finish me off. The woman has issues with us mer. And she doesn’t like vampires.” He sighed, his shrug almost careless.

“Or maybe it’s because you annoyed her too much.” I quipped, a mischievous smile tugging at my lips as I watched his smirk falter.

“How did you find me?” I pressed, my curiosity tinged with unease. His sudden appearance was far too convenient, and the fact that he knew exactly where to find me was unsettling.

“Too many questions and too little fun, don’t you think?” Amon deflected, his voice laced with impatience.

I found myself increasingly vexed by the sudden burden of this forced encounter.

Amon, with his ethereal beauty, carried an air of decay that made my skin crawl.

With a subtle gesture, he summoned a magnificent black steed from the shadows, and the sight snapped me back to reality.

“I don’t care of your nature. Just keep your distance from my neck, or I…” I began, my words a low hiss as I mounted Shadowmere.

“Or what?” he interrupted, his mocking tone a challenge, daring me to finish the threat.

“…or I drive a stake through your heart.” I spat, my eyes narrowing as I met his gaze, refusing to be intimidated.

“Oh dear,” he chuckled softly as he too ascended his steed, his voice a dark melody laced with amusement, “I assure you, I have none.”

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4E, 180

"What took you so long?" Sai's voice cut through the stillness, his tone sharper than intended. The Dragon Lord of Time met his gaze with an enigmatic smile, a knowing glimmer in his ancient eyes.

“I suspect we both share troubles when it comes to our progeny,” Auri-El murmured, his voice like the whisper of the first dawn.

He glanced down at the slumbering infant, brushing a finger tenderly across her brow.

“So, what do we do then, other than turning to our daughters?”

“Spare me the riddles, Akatosh,” Sai interjected, his tone sharp.

Auri-El’s expression softened, the timeless wisdom in his eyes deepening. “Do you wish for her to awaken, or not?”

Sai straightened, the weight of his concern heavy upon his shoulders. “That’s why I’ve prayed, day and night, to the worthless Divines.”

The elder gods lips curved into a smile, his gaze shifting from the baby in his arms back to Sai. “You should know, old friend, the Divines only intervene when our beloved Nirn is in danger.”

Sai’s frustration simmered, his brows knitting together. “What are you implying?”

“We have her though,” Auri-El continued, his voice a soft melody of inevitability, “our beloved daughter.”

“She’s not yours!” Sai retorted, his voice laced with a rare intensity, each word cutting through the ethereal silence.

“She wasn’t yours either,” Auri-El replied, his tone as gentle as the dawn yet unyielding as the march of time. “Not until your mistress placed her into that dreamless sleep.”

Before Sai could muster a response, before the torrent of questions could escape his lips, Auri-El moved with the precision of ages. He reached out, pressing a finger to the infant’s forehead, the divine touch brimming with a power beyond mortal comprehension.

“Now, she will be exalted above all, favored like my sons.”

The Dragon God smiled, a serene yet final expression, as he spoke the word that would bind her destiny, sealing it with an utterance that resonated through the fabric of the world.

“Dovahkiin.”

To be continued…