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  "Hey, Draugr Face. Workday is over. Crawl back to your crypt."

  "Hey, don’t say that."

  "What? Guy’s an idiot. Doesn’t talk, doesn’t eat…… think he scares me…… MOMMY!"

  *Thud*

  "Buzz off, you two pieces of shit. Work as much as he does then complain." The overseer stuck up for Draugr Face.

  Today was a usual day in Markarth, Jon goes up, everyone calls him ’Draugr Face’, he works in silence, steals some money and stuff then goes back to the Warrens at the end of the day. He grew up in Riften and Markarth was very similar to Riften. Tycoon family, incompetent Jarls and evil lurking everywhere.

  Still, out of his last month’s daily routine, Jon had a break off this day. He was still looking for a way to rid himself of those shackles around him. The vines that wrapped his body were really limiting him way too much. Still, the new magic he discovered after he broke through the ’Jade Skin stage’ was something terrifying. A natural ability that has a lot of potential if he managed to learn it properly.

  But that wasn’t the time for research, it was the time for healing. Jon had an appointment with the Alchemist.

  "Come in. This way."

  Just as he arrived at the ’Hag’s Cure’, an Alchemy shop in Markarth, the owner Bothela invited him in. Bothela was an Old Reachman that is not associated with the Forsworn so Jon went to her seeking a cure.

  "Come in here, the place is empty, just me and my assistant."

  Jon walked in wearing his work clothes that he has nothing other than them and hiding his head with a hood. Once he sat where Bothela pointed, he removed the hood and the shirt.

  "Sigh! Poor boy."

  Bothela sighed and checked Jon’s body.

  "The injuries on your fingers and left leg are clean despite your line of work. I am amazed you didn’t get any inflammation or infection. Also, the skin on your face and your left side will get its liveliness soon. Just stick to the medicine."

  Jon nodded.

  "Did you bring enough money?"

  Jon nodded again.

  "Then we can start. Just close your eyes and rest. A couple more sessions and your skull will heal and we will hear your voice."

  Bothela treated Jon kindly and he was thankful for her actions. Kindness didn’t come without money though.

  "Also, I contacted some people regarding these vines growing on your body. I don’t know what happened for them to be alive on you as a host. They have clearly transformed from plants to parasites now. It is unheard of so don’t have high hopes. I am still wondering how did that happen to you in the first place!"

  The questions of Bothela were many as any person should have. Jon can answer some, can’t answer some and don’t want to answer some. Still, those answers took his memory way back……

  ***

  *Three Months Ago*

  The Hagravens would surely show day after day to makes sure that the process is going smoothly but what they didn’t foresee was Jon as lively as ever while being stuck in the trunk of the tree for more than three days. He didn’t look tired or hungry, his eyes were still bright and didn’t show any signs of discomfort. Explaining it as Jon is a powerful enemy and possess the Blood of a God, the Hagravens discarded their worries as good fortune for the tree they are cultivating on dead bodies.

  A day or two passed and the visitor this time was not the hags but rather a face that Jon could recognize, Alaric of Karthspire and his freak brother Grosh.

  "Look, Grosh! The Nord who hurt you, we captured him!"

  "Grosh! Grosh!"

  "Hahaha! I know, right?"

  Their victory over Jon came at a high price, 300 Forsworn and 8 Hagravens for just a single man. Alaric bitterly called it a victory but he knew better, every Forsworn family held a funeral because of that man ever so comfortably resting in a tree.

  "Only the most heinous lawbreakers, traitors and Nords get to be offered to the trees. Consider yourself lucky." Alaric said.

  He looked at Jon. Red hair was like the flowing blood on a battlefield and eyes gleaming blue but still look down at Alaric. To him, Jon seemed younger than what his size would give off but it didn’t matter to Alaric. Jon was a disaster.

  Jon looked at Alaric. A midget for a savage whose hair was unkempt and face was full with red war paint the resembled a bird. He stood proud in front of Jon as if he was examining his trophy.

  "Motherfucker! You cost me a lot of men but…… here you are, broken and conquered like all you Nords should be." Alaric said taunting Jon.

  Jon closed his eyes with no interest in Alaric. Why even bother with a small fry!

  Alaric didn’t like Jon’s reaction and pressed on.

  "The Matrons call you ’God Blood’, right? Not sure where is that coming from but you are one of those ones blessed by Nord Gods, right? Hehe…… Look at you now. Not even able to break free. Do you know what these trees are called? They are the Briarheart trees. Once a person like you is put on one of those trees, the tree will eat them. And what’s left will turn into a piece of garbage. You will be the largest piece of Nord garbage we ever had."

  As Alaric finished, Jon opened his eyes and examined the tree closely then understood what kind of a tree it was. He didn’t see any tree like that in the game and the Reachmen kept the matters regarding the Briarheart Warriors a closely guarded secret.

  "We make bets on how long will it take you to die and how many hearts will the tree give us from you. Oh! This will be magnificent, I have high hopes of you." Alaric kept provoking Jon with words to no avail.

  It was understandable, Jon is strong and strong people are hard to break. There is no way the Nord who destroyed his best warriors would crumble that easily. Still, Alaric had one last thing to ask.

  "Tell me, you know that man they call Ulfric…… Ulfric Stormcloak…… that menace. He can shout like you and that man you came to save. Did you learn from him? Is he your leaders? Don’t worry you can’t shout, the tree won’t let you anyway. So, that man! Can I kill him?" Alaric asked with frenzied eyes.

  It was his sole purpose of being after all. Kill Ulfric and avenging everything. He honed his skill for many years and killed a lot of Nords but none were like Jon and Wulfur. Of course, it was natural for him to think that they are related to his figure of the devil but Jon’s response made him very uncomfortable.

  Jon’s eyes were showing mockery and he moved his head as if saying, "sure, why not?"

  Alaric felt upset about Jon’s haughty reaction that didn’t seem like a prisoner in his hand.

  "Just you wait! I will stick that blade in Ulfric’s heart and those who stand between me and him. But first, I will have the satisfaction of seeing you dying slowly."

  Alaric turned up and was about to leave but he remembered something and picked up a rag he brought with him.

  "Almost forgot, we dug that up with you. Nice blade!"

  In his hand, Alaric held [Bloodskal].

  "I will be keeping it from now on, a sword worthy of Alaric, the Blood Eagle. I am not great with naming and I know that you have taken some sort of silence oath so I will name this sword after me, Blood Eagle. Isn’t that nice, Grosh?"

  ’Grosh!"

  "I knew you would agree with me."

  Alaric was satisfied with what he did. Claiming another warrior’s weapon in front of him without killing him is no different than staining his honor and name. Alaric took [Bloodskal] in front of Jon and called it Blood Eagle after himself. Jon wasn’t amused with the fact but there is no way, Alaric can use [Bloodskal] anyway. It was Jon’s personal weapon for a good reason.

  Alaric turned to Jon with the sword in his hand and pointed it at Jon’s shoulder.

  "I don’t want to be called a thief but I think this weapon can injure you unlike ordinary ones, that’s why I will use it to shed some blood and claim it mine, no dishonor to you in that." Alaric said so and pressed the sword at Jon’s shoulder.

  "GROSH!"

  Grosh felt a bad premonition and tried to pull Alaric away from Jon but he was too late. Jon smiled faintly as the sword touched his shoulder and used the Essense Energy inside him to activate the Aura leftovers in [Bloodskal].

  Just like that, a sphere of red Tyrant Aura exploded from the sword and blasted everyone around it.

  Alaric and Grosh were pushed back a few steps but the tree and Jon were right as they were.

  "Groan!"

  The Thorny Vines tightened itself at Jon for doing such a naughty move and caused him to groan.

  Alaric who caused this was ashen pale. Not only the blade obey its master but the dormant Aura was mighty. Alaric remembered vividly what happened a few days ago when he faced Jon in battle and the festive mood he was in was shattered. He looked between [Bloodskal] and Jon as if he was defeated in a manhood contest.

  Jon kept the expressionless act after the Thorny Vines stopped tightening on him. Alaric was enraged but the hags soon showed up and demanded that he leave the Briarheart trees and saplings without causing a problem. Alaric looked at Jon hatefully before turning and leaving with Grosh.

  Still, Jon saw something that made him groan and look at Grosh with strong killing intent. Alaric and Grosh noticed what Jon was looking at. Alaric thought it would be a good way to make a comeback at Jon, he took the hammer that was hanging on Grosh’s back and showed it off.

  "This is really a good hammer befitting of my mighty brother, we took it from the area. Seems like its former owner won’t be needing it anymore." Alaric smiled and gave the warhammer back to Grosh.

  This was Wulfur’s warhammer, the [Champion’s Cudgel].

  Alaric’s words made Jon feel like a fire was burning in his abdomen. He tried to convince himself that Wulfur and Nefertiti have escaped and will get help soon but he never thought that Wulfur’s hammer would appear here. He was now angry and worried.

  Because of his negative emotions, his inner resistance to the Briarheart tree he was stuck in almost crumbled and the tree’s energy almost ravaged through his body. Jon was able to calm himself but his heart, he was really worried and the only thing he can do was to pray or hope for Wulfur’s safety.

  If he can talk he would pray but he hasn’t prayed for almost 18 years. Not even sure his prayers would be heard in a foreign word but he prayed anyway.

  Just as he calmed down, he started to think of himself right now. He needed a plan and do not expect any kind of help. The worst case scenario, he is preassumed dead. He knew his family will do some chaotic actions but he would manage no matter what.

  With such a mentality, Jon regained his senses and focused on the three and its Padomic Energy that he long since coveted. This is his opportunity. Either he eats the tree or the tree eats him.

  ***

  *Three months forward - Winterhold*

  Jon’s guess wasn’t off. His family was doing all it could. When he disappeared three months ago, all the burdens of Winterhold fell on Alina. She had her Clan, the Firemane younger generation that is now all present in Winterhold, she had Jon’s influence, she had all the power to command any creature in Winterhold. Even the Jarl was respectful towards her more than Jon. A Lady is a Lady after all and she was the overlady of Winterhold, daughter of Patriarch Sigurd Moonblade and woman of Jon Dare, the strongest two in Winterhold.

  Still, none could fell that void anymore. Jon and Nefertiti are missing which means half of the family is gone. Jullanar is bedridden and her situation is unstable with no known reason at all, even Jullanar’s teacher Nurileon said he has no logical explanation for her illness and he came every day to check and prepare the medicine.

  Just who to cry or run to when there is none she can lean on anymore.

  She is not even 18 yet and her world is facing a disaster. When she went to Nurina for help, the latter told her to be patient and just hold on.

  ’Is it possible?’ She thought.

  Well, the act of ’Thinking’ was something she wanted to avoid at all costs. She started to hate Winterhold that she is running for the sake of nothing but leaving her loved ones facing god knows what suffer.

  ’Is running the damn hold even worth it at that point?’


  There is no point in making a beautiful garden for a broken palace.

  She needed peace! A time out! A short escapee!

  She opened the window and teleported back to the house yard.

  "Lokthur, up."

  Without prior notice, she jumped on Lokthur and it flew carrying her.

  Destination? Her favorite palace in this world…… the Eldergleam Sanctuary!

  ~~~~~~~~~~

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