Akatosh fixes the crystal in my chest in what has to be the least medical way possible. First, he grabs it with one talon and shoves it farther into me. All the way in for some reason. Then, where the crystal had been lodged, he tears off a piece of himself—literally rips away a shred of divine essence—and changes its matter state. It turns liquid, glowing like molten gold and starlight. Before I can process the horror of watching a god peel himself like some cosmic fruit, he pushes that liquid into me too.
That's when the pain starts.
I used to think I knew what pain was. Military training. Broken ribs. Being tackled by a man I used to call my father. Even getting my soul skewered by a rogue Void crystal. All of that felt like stubbing a toe compared to this.
This wasn't pain in the body; this was pain in the blueprint. In the code. In the core. My soul felt like someone had thrown it into a blender, poured it out, rewrote the recipe, and mixed it again. The liquid essence crawled through me, rewriting and expanding what I was. Making it larger, denser, sharper while the hole repaired itself. Something more. Something no longer mortal.
The crystal lodged itself deep inside me fusing with my soul—kind of like a second heart, but made of magic and pressure and potential.
A lot of potential.
I have so many questions, I think miserably to myself.
Akatosh chuckles. "Ask, and I shall answer."
"Of course," I say. "Of course you can read my thoughts. Fine. I have an idea of what happened, but… can you explain it without the pain part?"
Before the dragon can speak, the one-eyed man steps forward. His voice is calm, steady, ancient.
"He used a portion of himself," he says, "and imbued it into your soul to catalyze a change. It overwrote your mortal nature and reshaped you into something closer to himself. Immortal. Draconic. You are now, in a sense, a small piece of Akatosh who when fused with a mortal body becomes what we term as a Dragonborn."
I stare at him. "A Dragonborn?! A small piece? Like… a mini Akatosh?"
Akatosh coughs—a dragon's version of a laugh.
The one-eyed man nods as if that wasn't a horribly blasphemous analogy. "I am Magnus, by the way. Akatosh summoned me to cast the spell that pulled your soul from your Earth realm into the Void and then fast tracked it here and to also divine a safe route for you so you weren't swallowed by the beings that dwell there."
Insert image of Magnus here
I gulp. "That sounds ominous."
Magnus gestures toward the multi-armed being standing quietly beside him. "And this is Sithis. He who lies in the Void around Aurbis. He enjoys the silence of it, which he calls the music of life. He protects the universe from things that would take too much interest in it."
Insert image of Sithis here
Sithis says nothing. Instead, he smiles and waves at me the way a cheerful psychopath might—but too many teeth, too wide, and too delighted.
Oh joy. An unhinged god.
Sithis chuckles silently.
I pale. Of course he heard that. Of course they all can hear everything I think. Great. Wonderful. No pressure.
My self preservation instincts kick in and I mentally shout the first thing that comes to my mind, He seems like a very chill guy who would be great at parties!
Sithis gives me a thumbs up.
Magnus clears his throat, politely ignoring the exchange. "To clarify: Akatosh ended your mortal life, yes. I cast the summoning and guided your travel. And Sithis… permitted the act and made sure nothing followed."
"So I died, got yanked across existence, and someone filed an interdimensional immigration form on my behalf?"
Magnus actually laughs. "Almost correct. Sithis does not concern himself with small beings like mortals who wish to come or go. There are archmagi from Mundus who occasionally wander into the Void. He only watches for… larger threats."
He pauses, choosing his words carefully.
"In your world's terms, think of the Void Lords from World of Warcraft. Or Cthulhu-like elder gods from the Lovecraftian book's Cthulhu Mythos or others called the Many-Angled Ones from your Marvel Comics. Essentially them, others and any being drifting in the void that is so powerful and malevolent that even we take notice of them."
Insert image of Cthulhu here
I look at Sithis again. For a second, I imagine him punching Cthulhu in the face with one of his many arms. The image is horrifying and weirdly comforting.
Magnus continues, "Sithis is simply content to sit in his silence, watching the infinity around us. But we summoned him to join this triumvirate in case anything followed the path we created for you. Or if something… noticed your passage."
"Noticed?" I repeat. My soul-heart does an uncomfortable lurch. "Something could have noticed me? Why? I'm not that interesting."
"You are a mortal soul being pulled by divine power across an infinite void," Magnus says. "You shone across the Void like a lightbulb in a dark room, which was a necessary risk."
"Oh." That's not reassuring.
"Sithis," Magnus adds, "is stronger than both of us. And he would have sensed our actions anyway. It was better to invite him."
Sithis tilts his head, as if agreeing, or maybe thinking about eating me. Hard to tell.
I try to breathe—then remember I don't have lungs. My soul somehow imitates the motion anyway.
"Okay," I say slowly. "So I'm a Dragonborn now. Or at least the soul equivalent. But… why? I mean, what do you want me to do? Be a chosen one? Save the world? Fetch divine coffee?"
Akatosh lowers his massive head to my level. His eyes contain galaxies.
"You will live a mortal life," he says. "not as a true mortal. But as a Dragonborn with a mortal body and an immortal soul. You will shape the world as you see fit, guided by your choices to prevent its inevitable destruction."
That's not the answer I expected. Not even close.
Magnus folds his arms. "Your new soul requires time to stabilize. When it has settled, you will be reborn. You will awaken with instincts, potential, and abilities tied to Akatosh's essence—but your life will be your own."
"And the crystal?" I ask. "The part that stabbed me? What's that for?"
Akatosh's tail curls behind him like a cosmic river.
"The crystal," he says, "was not meant for you. It was a magic artifact of concentrated magical energy from another realm. When it pierced your soul, it fractured your soul-lattice. I repaired you, but the crystal remains fused into your soul's essence because removal may have been catastrophic."
"So I'm… contaminated?"
Magnus shakes his head. "Altered. The shard carries possibility. It may strengthen you, especially your magicka pool. But it may complicate things. It is not dangerous though—not anymore."
Sithis nods once, which somehow feels like a vote of approval.
I finally ask the big question "so why am I here?"