"What are you looking at, you filthy mortals?" snapped Caprifexia as she passed by a rough cookfire, glaring at the dozen or so dirty hairless apes smiling at her.

  Their grins faded, and they looked at each other in confusion as Caprifexia moved onward up the small gully, looking for where the bleeding-hearted Einar had run off to.

  It was the evening after Caprifexia had heroically single-handedly saved the inhabitants of the mortal city of Windhelm from total destruction, and for some reason Einar and the cat had insisted on 'helping' the displaced refugees, rather than getting back to the, in comparison, far more interesting quest to kill all the disgusting proto-drakes.

  The camp itself was nestled in a sheer-faced gully around an abandoned, burnt out farmhouse at the edge of some woods. To the north, over what had once been fields, the fading light of the tear into the Void could be seen. On either side, to the east and west, rose steep, snowy slopes that quickly gave way to vertical cliffs, and high above them to the south was a towering snowy peak. It had a name, but she hadn't been listening to Einar on the way up. After using Void magic she'd had a pretty bad headache, the last after affects of which hadn't quite disappeared.

  The Faceless and their spawn hadn't followed them, not wishing to stray too far from the source of their power, and apparently content – as far as a nigh unintelligible horror could be content – to battle the stream of proto-drakes that seemed drawn to the wound in reality like mortals to shiny baubles, and which could still be seen in the distance, pouring flame down onto the distant smoking ruins of Windhelm.

  The cat was off somewhere healing people, although she didn't particularly care. Discovering that he had had the ability to heal came as no real surprise – the lack of the discipline to stick one area of the art and seek perfection was emblematic of a scatty-brained mortal approach to magic – and life generally.

  But worst of all, Einar had insisted that she wear her mortal form while in the makeshift camp. Apparently her true form would 'overwhelm' the cowering, simpering, and dirty mortals. And while she could easily believe that, this was apparently a reason not to do it. 'Scaring innocent people' wasn't considered heroic. Allegedly.

  Finally, after snapping at three more groups of the dishevelled mortals for not minding their own business she found him boiling strips of cloth by one of the fires. Why exactly Einar thought that clothing made good food, she had no idea, but mortals were pretty weird and she didn't have time to try and understand every single one of their irrational foibles.

  "There you are," she said, sniffing suspiciously at the bubbling mixture.

  "Oh, hey Capri," he said, putting a stick into the mixture and pulling out several of the clothes and arranging them to dry. "Need something? Get bored of your book?"

  "These mortals will not leave me alone," she said. "They keep on bothering me, staring, doing strange things with their hats, and holding out babies at me. I do not like it."

  "It's probably because, and I know this might seem pretty weird, they think you're actually a hero," he chortled, clearly finding the constant stream of irritation amusing. "After all, it was pretty impressive how you hamstrung that Faceless."

  "Everything I do is impressive, and that has never resulted in pestering before," she said. "How do I make them stop? Fire?"

  "No! No fire!" said Einar urgently.

  "How then?"

  "Capri, why are you annoyed about being appreciated?" he said. "Normally you demand recognition for doing absolutely nothing. Now your getting it for something you actually did. You actually acted like a hero, saving all those people-"

  "Their survival was purely incidental. I was protecting you, not them."

  "I suppose being a hero incidentally is still being a hero," he said. "Just be nice. OK? These people have been through a lot."

  "I am always nice. I am a dragon."

  Einar seemed to find this amusing, and chuckled to himself as he added more rags to the clothes soup.

  "Do you have any idea about what caused the tear?" he asked, growing more sombre.

  "Some kind of powerful spacial magic," said Caprifexia, waving a mortal hand airily.

  "Did someone on this side create it?"

  "Of course, if the Old Gods could open portals into reality from the Void on a whim this world would have been destroyed eons ago."

  Einar hummed pensively and went back to stirring while Caprifexia opened the first of the books Sorbet had given her, and which she'd been trying to read all evening. She wasn't entirely sure that the undead hadn't been pulling her tail about tapping remotely into the magic of a place and using it without changing it's form, but the prospect of being able to cast magic without growing tired was too tempting to pass up.

  Even her relatively small use of Void magic against the Faceless had given her a headache that pulsed irritatingly behind her eyes. Not that any of the 'five aspects of mana' would let her use void magic without the associated exhaustion, at least, she didn't think so. 'Black' seemed to broadly fall under the schools of umbramancy, and was not the un-energy of the Void itself.

  Caprifexia was just about to start one of the meditative exercises that the book spoke about when Einar finished cooking his rags and began to fold the dry ones for later consumption. Or something, she didn't really care, what annoyed her was that he felt the need to bother her yet again.

  "Capri," he said. "That desert plane, the destroyed one-"

  "Zarrak."

  "How do you know it's name- no, nevermind, 'you're a dragon,'" he said, demonstrating his almost endearing limited capacity to learn. "Was it destroyed by something similar to what happened in Windhelm?"

  "I told you-"

  "About the 'Void Integrity Quotient,' yes," he said. "But I'm asking if something like what happened Windhelm could be part of, err… lowering it?"

  "No, that would be a separate process," she said. "It would require a generalised weakening of the barriers of reality, not a specific and localised rip in space-time."

  "But the actual 'rips' that were made if the 'Void Integrity Quotient' was bought to '1' could have been like in Windhelm?"

  "Hypothetically," she said, somewhat impressed he had managed to understand that much. Well… the cat had probably told him. "At at VIQ of exactly 1, tears would neither expand nor contract without outside influence."

  "So how do you think 'Zarrak' died?"

  "Does this matter? I'm in the middle of trying the make sense of that ridiculous vampire's silly magic."

  "Yeah Capri, it matters."

  "Fine," she said, devoting her immense mind to the problem for a moment. "I suppose that the death of Zarrak's so-called 'Sun-God' could have weakened the defences of the reality – if the SABIGISMFs of that world were integral to maintaining it, like they apparently are here."

  "Wait – one of that world's Gods died?" he said. "How do you know that?"

  "I read it in a book."

  "What 'book?'" asked Einar.

  "One I found in that temple, the one with the statutes of the winged woman."

  "So if Nirn's Gods were to die, maybe even just one of them, then the same thing could happen?"

  "Probably," she said with a shrug.

  Einar trailed off again pensively, stacking the cleaned food-rags into a box and handing them to another one of the stare-y mortals. Hoping that she might finally be able to try out one of the book's exercises, Caprifexia closed her eyes once again, calming her mind and sensing the mana around her.

  According to the book one accomplished 'bonding' with the energy of a place by understanding it. She wasn't exactly sure what they meant by that, she had been able to feel the ebb and flow of energy around her since before she'd hatched, the great flowing lines of power that were the lifeblood of reality, that kept the world's various systems in balance, weaving together into the mind-boggling tapestry that was creation.

  And she already understood it, the various formulae and rules she had learned and put together from both her classes and ancestral memories explained what was happening around her. She knew why ley-lines formed, where they were likely to fork or fuse, and how to tap into them for ritual magic. She could list the seven laws of astral flux by heart. She knew how to weave power into fire and ice and electricity. She could feel if someone near her was casting magic, and sense if objects were affecting the flow of energy around them. She already understood.

  But that incredible and concrete knowledge, apparently, wasn't wishy-washy enough for the discipline, because as the night trudged onward and she heard the simpering mortals grow silent as they bedded down under whatever shelter they could find she still hadn't managed to create the 'bond' that the book spoke of.

  "Stupid vague magic," she huffed, opening her eyes and standing, stretching her mortal body that had become sore for sitting in place for so long.

  Einar was still nearby, rolled up tightly in what looked like only one of his usual three blankets. She spotted the other two nearby, draped over two grubby looking children. He shivered, and she reflexively cast a warming charm over the recklessly soft-hearted fool and, after a moment's deliberation, over the disgusting snotty nosed juvenile mortals as well.

  In the distance the tear was still open, although it seemed to be on it's last legs. The proto-drakes were still attacking, and from the look of it, the Faceless were already becoming diminished.

  The entire episode was vaguely worrying, despite her attempts to reassure the latest of Einar's never ending neurosis. Tears into the Void did not just open themselves, and the although she had heard of the rituals needed to create them, they implied incredibly powerful and complicated magic – the kind that normally only ancient dragons could accomplish.

  And why attack this random mortal town? As far as she knew, and she was reasonably confident that she had a handle on the pointless mortal politics of this realm, it was pretty unimportant. It certainly couldn't have been some kind of seat of power given the way it had crumpled instantly – nothing that could possibly have threatened a spellcaster powerful enough to open the tear in the first place.

  So why had the caster done it? She was clearly missing something key.

  With a huff she pushed the thoughts aside and closed her eyes again, reaching out into the mana around her, letting it flow around her and trying to achieve the vague 'insight' that the book spoke of.

  Nothing happened, but as the minutes ticked by and she delved deeper and deeper into the flow she began to feel a slight disturbance a few kilometres to the north. It wasn't anything like what the book described, but she seized upon it and mentally followed its to it's source. After all, the author had only been a mortal – it wouldn't have surprised her if they were wrong.

  The disturbance vanished a moment later, and she lost the thread. She was about to pull her consciousness back when she felt it again, clearer this time, next to the far, far fainter, but still distinct and identifiable sickly cloying feel of dark magic bunching around what felt like a dozen figures.

  A dozen figures who reeked of necromantic magic.

  Her eyes snapped open.

  "Einar!" she barked, rushing over to him and shaking his shoulder. "Einar! Wake up you lazy mortal!"

  "What? Capri?" he said groggily, half-pushing her away. "It's super late, go to sleep."

  "There are spell-casters coming – using dark magic."

  "Spellcasters?" he said, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean-"

  "Vampires, I believe," she said. "To the north, down the gully."

  His eyes cleared, and a moment later he was on his feet.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I am a drag-"

  "OK, you're sure," he said, rushing over to J'zargo and shaking the cat awake. "J'zargo, Capri has sensed some vampire's approaching."

  "Vampires?" said the cat, sitting up and rubbing his furry head. "Is she sure it was not just a bad dream? She is a child-"

  "Of course I'm sure, you overgrown mortal house-pet," growled Caprifexia.

  "J'zargo is not-"

  "We don't have time to argue about just how much of a bigot Capri is," said Einar, pulling the cat up and pushing him northward. "I'll wake everyone – you two slow them down, do something wizardy!"

  The gully ran toward the ruins of the city itself, and had been the way that they had come up earlier that day, and although she could easily have flown over either side of the steep walls, east or west, the sheer cliffs were more or less impassable to the pathetic mortals that it seemed to be her responsibility to babysit.

  "How many did you sense?" asked J'zargo as he cast a series of warelights out over the snowy plane, illuminating it in flickering blue light.

  "A dozen," she said.

  "That is too many vampires to fight directly, even for J'zargo."

  "What about the mortals, could we use them as meat shields?" asked Caprifexia.

  J'zargo raised an eyebrow. "J'zargo thought you were a 'hero.'"

  "A pragmatic hero – the best kind of hero."

  "If the refugees were all trained and armed they might stand a chance," said J'zargo. "But most are craftspeople, or labourers."

  "There were a few soldiers," she said.

  "That might help. But they are not trained to fight undead killing machines stronger and faster than they are," said J'zargo, scratching his furry chin. "And J'zargo does not think more than perhaps a dozen survived – even with ten times that J'zargo would not give them good odds."

  Caprifexia cleared her throat and waited for a few beats.

  "… so that's a no on the craftspeople and labourer meat shields?"

  "Of course!" said J'zargo, having the temerity to sound exasperated. "You cannot save people by getting them killed!"

  "Fine, if we're arbitrarily not allowed to use all the resources available to us what do you suggest?"

  "Vampires are weak to sunlight," said J'zargo.

  "It's the middle of the night. Are you blind?"

  "J'zargo is just brainstorming."

  "'Storm?' Hah. It's barely a light squall with you mortals."

  "You are a very unhelpful 'dragon.'"

  "Alright – they don't like fire either."

  "Better," he nodded, looking up at the sides of the gully. "We cannot flee anywhere except backward, and there may not be a way all the way up the mountain behind us, let alone down the other side."

  "What about the vampires, could they surround us?" she asked. She wasn't really sure what this world's particular brand of vampires were capable of. Back on Azeroth they had had wings, but the one that had tried to eat Einar, and who she had set on fire, heroically, had looked more or less like any other mortal.

  "J'zargo does not think so," he said. "They are strong and fast, but those cliffs are very steep. Vampires are also arrogant, if we attack, they will likely not consider going around us."

  "Then we have another advantage, I can fly to safety."

  "… J'zargo does not see how that helps slay the vampires."

  "I'm just 'brainstorming.'"

  "You are too small to carry anyone," he said. "What about opening a portal into the Void with your strange and inadequately explained magic? Evacuate the refugees that way?"

  "This close to a rip like that?" she said, gesturing to the still visible pillar of Void light. "A Faceless might feel it and follow us back into the Void. And then we'd all be definitely dead."

  She also wasn't entirely sure, if it was her Spark that protected her friend (and the cat), that she would be capable of shielding so many people from the ravages of the Void at once. She had certainly gotten exhausted before when overusing her incredible, amazing ability in a short period of time, so immediately testing her limits with over a hundred of the mortal refugees did not seem a good idea.

  "Then we must either slay them all, or delay them long enough for the sun to rise," he said.

  "Sunrise is not for another four hours and sixteen minutes."

  "How do you know that so exactly?" asked the cat.

  "I am a dragon."

  The cat harrumphed and looked out over the snowy field.

  "J'zargo will begin making some runic traps," he said. "You go forward and scout, let J'zargo know when they are getting close."

  "Who put you in charge?" said Caprifexia.

  "J'zargo is the most senior wizard present, therefore he should be in charge. It is only logical."

  "Pah, 'senior?' Only in time spent floundering with cantrips, not in ability or power or intelligence or general magnificence," she said. "Besides, I am immortal, you are mortal, therefore I should be in charge. It's only natural."

  "We do not have time to argue this," said the cat. "Why are you opposed to my idea?"

  "I'm not, on principle," she said, transforming into her whelpling form. "But I'm in charge."

  "Does that mean you are going to go and scout?" he said as he moved forward, carefully beginning to carve a runic array into the snow.

  "Only because I've decided to incorporate elements of your suggestion into my master plan."

  "So long as J'zargo gets his warning, the small lizard can believe what she wants."

  "I am not a lizard!"

  "J'zargo is not a cat!"

  Caprifexia growled at him, before taking off into the air and climbing rapidly, heading northward. The moon wasn't out, and the sky was clouded over, but the light from the Void rift cast eerie flickering light over the entire valley.

  She spotted the vampires less than a minute later. They were casually strolling up the snowy path in no apparent hurry, chuckling and laughing to one another. To the naked eye they looked like fairly normal, boring mortals. Most of them were humans, with one or two elves, and one of the reptilian humanoids - 'agronian' she thought they were called – who was wearing heavy, dark-steel plate armour, and who seemed to be the leader, judging by her position at the front of the group.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  If they saw her high above them, they gave no indication. Caprifexia contemplated conjured a ball of fire and dropping it on them, but her brilliant plan, which she had J'zargo executing the grunt work of back near the burntout farmhouse, was the catch them unawares in a web of poorly crafted, but hopefully effective magically charged arrays.

  Usually runic arrays they were carefully carved into an object with a specific purpose by taking a circle, at least one kind of geometric shape, and whatever script the wizard in question preferred to work with. The combination of the shape, the distance between symbols, and the understanding that the caster had of all those elements was what turned the energy that the array was charged with into an effect of some kind.

  Normally one took pains to make sure if the array became compromised in some way then the energy would discharge in a more or less controlled manner, hopefully not entirely destroying the artefact or area in question so it would be possible to repair, and not immediately killing anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby.

  J'zargo's arrays, however, were hopefully – assuming he knew what his job in her master plan was – not going to feature any such fail-safes. Instead they would be focused on hiding their thaumic signature as much as possible, and holding the energy in some kind of particularly destructive form so that when someone, say a vampire, stepped on the lines and disrupted them they would destabilise. Explosively.

  Back on Azeroth some of the mortal races had made a treaty banning the use of 'hidden underground trap-runic arrays,' but her people had never paid any attention to such nonsense, and had used them extensively in their war against mortal-kind.

  From her vantage point high in the air Caprifexia could see Einar herding the bleary eyed mortal refugees higher up into the gully, and the cat working his way backward across the field, quickly carving circles, triangles, and symbols with his claws, charging the shape with energy, and then covering them gently in conjured snow.

  She waited until the strolling vampires were nearing a rise that would bring them into view of the farmhouse before turning and flapping back to the cat, who had worked quickly and was nearly back at the farmhouse.

  "They're coming?" he said, finishing one last rune and covering it in snow.

  "Yes," she said. "Twelve of them, an agronian-"

  "-argonian-"

  "-whatever, seems to be the leader. She is wearing armour, it might be enchanted."

  "J'zargo sees," said the cat. "Come, help J'zargo with an illusion that the camp is still full – we do not want them to know that we know that they are coming."

  Caprifexia nodded, glad that the cat was sticking so closely to her plan, and raised her claws.

  "Mentidus," she intoned, conjuring a few simple images of mortals cooking and drinking clothes soup. They weren't fully three dimensional, the lines weren't great, the colours were flat, and the movements a bit janky, but so long as the vampire's didn't look too closely it would seem from afar like a perfectly normal scene of mortal life.

  The cat conjured some more illusions, needlessly wasting time on realism as she conjured more images, until the now empty camp looked like it was filled with dirty mortals.

  Once they were done she flapped over to where the cat hunkered down behind the shell of the farmhouse, alighting on what had once been the structure's eave as the group of vampires crested the rise and came into view.

  The vampires were no longer strolling along, and had instead fanned out, their movements full of swift and fluid grace. A human might have had had trouble seeing them, but Caprifexia had no difficulty picking out their dark forms. Cats, and she assumed therefore also 'khajiite,' were also renowned for their eyesight.

  The vampires were almost halfway across the snowy field before one of them hit a runic mine.

  As one of the elvish vampire's boots broke the thin crust of fresh snow there was a brief flare of orange lightning, before with a deafening boom an explosion sent snow and small bits of vampire flying across the field. The other vampires froze, staring at the pair of smoking boots that was all that remained of their fellow.

  He might have been a puffed up, overconfident, fluffy mortal fool, but she'd admit, J'zargo could certainly could create unstable and dangerously shoddily crafted runic circles. She supposed there were some upsides to being a terrible wizard.

  "Don't move," hissed the agronian vampire, baring her teeth as her cold yellow eyes flicked over the field, eventually settling on the flat and completely obviously unreal illusions that J'zargo had put up in what could only be described as reckless expedience. "Wizards – they felt us coming; you idiot Horvan, I told you not to curse that owl."

  "How was I to know-" began a once-human vampire.

  "Shut up," she said. "Retrace your steps – exactly, unless you want to end up like Jezerella over there."

  "We're retreating? But I was promised blood!" complained the apparently suicidal vampire called Horvan. "You said there would be easy pickings, that winged-"

  "Shut up before I rip out your tongue," snarled the Agronian. "We are not retreating – we are falling back so we can detonate this death-trap safely."

  "J'zargo does not think they will like this next part," whispered J'zargo, holding up a paw as they began to retreat.

  "What?" said Caprifexia.

  "Not all the arrays were shallow enough to be set off by a boot," he said as orange lightning began to arc between his claws. "They passed over many before reaching that one."

  Caprifexia and the cat shared sharp toothy grins as he closed his fist, and Caprifexia again revised her estimation of the cat slightly upward in her mind.

  If the previous detonation had been loud, but the rest of the back line of runic-mines was ear-splitting. The entire far side of the snowfield erupted in a blaze of orange fire, obscuring the entire scene as ice, dirt, bits of clothing and vampire dust rained down on everything as far back as the burnt-out farmhouse itself.

  For a moment Caprifexia thought that her brilliant plan might have gotten all the vampires, but then the smoke cleared, revealing three figures still standing: the lead agronian lizard-vampire, whose clearly enchanted armour was glowing cherry red, and two singed looking fellows: a human man with an ash covered face who seemed very surprised to be alive and an elven man with greyscale skin and half of his hair burnt off who had summoned a shield around himself.

  "Sven, are you alright!?" said the agronian.

  "Fine… ish," said the elf, rubbing his hair. "Are you sure this is worth it Sivvy? I'm not even hungry."

  "We just lost ten- no, wait, nine fledglings, fledglings we needed to find Serana," said the lizard. "And if we fail him…"

  "Ugh, you're right," said the elf, pulling a few strands of black, burnt hair before his eyes. "Although I am going to tear whatever wizard did this apart. Just look at my hair!"

  "It's not so bad…" said the agronian, reaching toward the male vampire's face. "I think you look rugged."

  "Shut up Sivvy," huffed the elven vampire, pushing her hand away. "You have terrible taste – remember that doublet you bought me? The blue one with frills?"

  "I thought it looked dapper," said the agronian defensively.

  "J'zargo thinks that we should fall back and cast more traps," whispered the cat as the two vampire continued to bicker, the third, human, vampire looking slightly embarrassed at the spat. "Einar should have evacuated the refugees far enough up the gully by now."

  Caprifexia nodded, flapping after the cat as he turned and sprinted deeper into the gully. Further up the mountain the farmland gave way to a pine forest, the snowy ground was a mess of footprints from the refugees that the lightly falling snow hadn't even begun to cover up. That meant that they couldn't reuse the runic mine traps.

  Thankfully wizards like Caprifexia were infinitely versatile, and with the help of the far more limited J'zargo, she had plenty of options for making the forest lethal.

  There was an explosion behind them as they reached the trees and began to lay down their traps. J'zargo seemed to be doing something to the forest itself, but Caprifexia had something far less arboreal in mind. She had noted during her immense battle against the vampire that had tried to eat Einar, employing her incredible deductive skills, that the undead creature's senses were very keen.

  She had countered that with smoke and noise then, but neither of those would be particularly stealthy.

  Instead she carefully carved a few elegant draconic runes into the trees, casting a simple spell to turn them into temporary anchors. They wouldn't last very long, but she didn't need them to. As she worked explosions continued behind her, the surviving vampires slowly and methodically making their way across the field of runic mines.

  She managed to scrawl the draconic characters for 'Equilibrius' on perhaps a dozen trees before the explosions had stopped, and the khajiite had already finished what he was doing and retreated further up toward the still scrambling refugees.

  Focusing, Caprifexia reached out for her inscriptions, grasping the strands of power and weaving a more complex enchantment on top of them, a curse that would play havoc with the balance anything in the forest.

  Caprifexia felt the spell take hold as the vampire's were cautiously approaching the burntout farmhouse, and flapped up into the upper branches of one of the trees, above the effective area of the enchantment.

  The agronian in the plate armour stopped as she reached the corner of the farmhouse, sniffing suspiciously at where the cat had been.

  "A khajiite," she said, before sniffing again. "Something else too – a bit like… brimstone?"

  "A familiar perhaps?" said the elven vampire with the burnt hair.

  "Perhaps," said the agronian, straightening and turning to the forest. "Beware more traps. Wizards are seldom one trick ponies – as you know, my Sven."

  The vampires entered the forest cautiously, sticking to the most well trodden areas. They entered the area she had cursed a few moments later, and Caprifexia felt the spell begin to take affect slowly. The human vampire stumbled first, rubbing his head in irritation. Then the elf tripped, sprawling into the snow.

  "What is going on!?" said the agronian woozily, digging her sword into the snow and leaning on it heavily.

  "Some kind of curse," said the elf, pushing himself drunkenly upward.

  "We should be able to move through it-" began the once human vampire, before the tree he was standing next to burst into motion, a branch smashing into his chest and sending him flying backward.

  Caprifexia, sensing an opportunity, took off, carefully staying above the area of her curse for as long as possible before diving downward at the sprawled vampire. It might have been debilitating for a vampire, but she was a dragon, made of far sterner stuff, and if she was careful to keep her time in the field to a minimum she'd be fine.

  The human vampire saw her a moment before she opened her jaws, but was too stunned by her majesty to move and just screamed as dragonfire washed over him, thrashing about for a few moments before bursting into a cloud of dust.

  Caprifexia grinned to herself and began to rise back into the air, before unexpectedly crashing into the snowy ground that had somehow gotten itself above her. Caprifexia whined as the world cartwheeled around her, spitting out snow as her senses went haywire and she tried to reorient herself.

  Apparently her magic was a lot more potent than she had realised. That was normally good, although in this instance… quite bad.

  "Got you," came a hiss from above, and Caprifexia turned over just in time for a gauntleted hand to close around her neck and be wrenched off the ground by the agronian in plate armour.

  Caprifexia woozily spat fire, but the vampire pointed her head to the side, and the flames hit nothing.

  "What is it?" said the elven vampire, waving his hands about in what looked like a counter-spell – probably for the cat's silly animated trees. He seemed totally indifferent to the charred remains of the vampire Caprifexia had destroyed, and instead seemed to be mainly irritated by Caprifexia's incredible enchantment.

  "Living," sniffed the vampire as the moving trees stilled. "Doesn't seemed to be a summoned being."

  "Unhand me, you bloodsucking mongrel!" said Caprifexia.

  "Oh, and it speaks!" said the elven vampire, clapping his hands together. "Can we eat it Sivvy? I've never eaten flying talking lizard!"

  Caprifexia snarled and summoned fire to her talons, only for it to dissipate as the vampire tightened it's grip on her neck and Caprifexia's vision flickered.

  "None of that," said the lizard vampire.

  "It can cast magic?" said Sven, peering at Caprifexia for a few moments. "Oh! It must be a shapeshift! That's very clever."

  "A shapeshift?" said 'Sivvy' the lizard vampire.

  "A rare and rather hard branch of magic. This is one of the wizards."

  'Sivvy' – which really seemed far too unintimidating to be the vampire's real name – hissed. "You've cost me ten of my fledglings, wizard."

  "Only one," gasped Caprifexia. "The cat did the mines! And the trees! It was all his idea-"

  "Which means you did this horrific balance curse," said the lizard, shaking her. "Undo it. Now."

  "Can't," choked Caprifexia. "Anchored."

  The lizards' grip tightened, and Caprifexia began to panic as her scales squeaked under the pressure. She could try and cast another spell, but the vampire would kill her before it took affect. She could try and Planeswalk, but that would almost certainly summon a Faceless, which would not only kill her, but destroy her soul.

  "Hold on Sivvy," said Sven, causing the lizard-vampire to pause crushing Capri's neck. "We just lost ten fledgelings – this one would be a good replacement. And I want to know how it did the shapeshift."

  "It burnt off your hair," said the lizard angrily.

  "I can grow it back – I know a cantrip," said Sven airily. "And look how cute it is with those horns! Please?"

  "Fine," said the lizard with a half-hearted huff and a wry smile. "But only because it's you."

  She shook Caprifexia roughly. "Change back."

  "Or?" squeaked Caprifexia.

  "Or I snap your neck."

  Given the choice between certain, imminent death, and slightly less certain, slightly less imminent death, Caprifexia chose the latter, her form shifting into that of a shortish, dusky skinned elf with glowing orange eyes and long, swept back horns. Her feet didn't quite reach the snow, and being choked was perhaps even less pleasant in her squishy elven form, but at least she was still alive. Alive meant a chance to figure out a way out of the mess the cat had gotten her into by abandoning her and failing to stick to the plan.

  The lizard, however, wasn't interested in any more chat, and before Caprifexia could so much as begin to come up with another brilliant strategy to get herself out of J'zargo's mess the vampire grabbed Caprifexia by the horn and opened her mouth, revealing dozens of razor sharp teeth, and bit deep into Caprifexia's neck.

  Caprifexia screamed, thrashing around as her blood steamed and spluttered as it met the air. She tried to call her magic to her, but the combination of pain and nausea from her own spell was too much for even her to focus past, and the power slipped through her mental grasp.

  The vampire slurped disgustingly at her neck for several seconds, before jerking back. A moment later Caprifexia hit the snow as the lizard pushed her away, staggering and falling to her knees.

  "Sivvy? Sivvy? What's wrong?" said the elven vampire, rushing to the plate-clad vampire's side.

  "It burns," hissed the lizard vampire, pawing at her throat as the veins beneath her fine facial scales began to turn a burning orange. "It burns."

  "I don't understand," said the other vampire, conjuring magic to his own hands and running them over the lizard. "It's not elven blood! It's magical- cursed!"

  "Help," choked the lizard as the glowing veins spread further, beginning to char the scales above them. The scent of burning flesh filled the air. "Help me!"

  "I can't get it out! I can't get it out!" said the elf, panic rising in his own voice as magic swirled around him. "Sivvy, oh night, Sivvy-"

  The agroanian vampire's eyes widened in terror, and she grasped at the collar of the elf's finely made robes and cupped one of the his cheeks in a gauntleted hand.

  "I-" she began, before the blazing orange beneath her scales reached a critical threshold, and with a scream the reptillian vampire burst into a cloud of ash.

  "No!" screamed the elven vampire, tears streaming down his face as he pawed at the ashes. "No. No. No, no, no, no!"

  Caprifexia pushed herself upright, fighting through the wave of nausea and pain as the tears in her neck seared themselves closed, and allowed herself a snicker.

  "Hah!" she said weakly. "That will teach you to mess with a dragon, abomination. You'd better run, because once I catch my breath-"

  The elven vampire's puffy, bloodshot eyes whipped up towards Caprifexia, and with a yell he launched herself at Caprifexia, grabbing her by the collar, wrenching her upright, and slamming her into a tree hard enough that spots appeared in her vision.

  "You killed her! You killed her!" he screamed into Caprifexia's face, pulling her back and slamming her into the tree once again, hard enough that the tree, and several of her ribs, audibly cracked. "I'll rip out your heart! I'll flay the skin from your flesh and suck the marrow from your bones, make you beg for-"

  There was a whistling sound, and a dull thunk, and the vampire froze, staring down at where a sharpened end of a tree branch was sticking straight through his chest and, irritatingly, about a half a centimetre into Caprifexia's own coat.

  The vampire's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to scream a moment before he burst into a cloud of ash. Caprifexia slid down the tree, landing with a painful thunk in a pile of now empty robes and ash. A whole lot of her ribs were definitely broken, her neck hurt almost as much as when that unfriendly elf had shot her with lightning, her tongue was covered in her own blood, and she felt like she was going to vomit. Above her the tree retracted, returning to it's normal, unanimated state.

  "Small dragon, are you all right?" came the voice of J'zargo, who was staggering drunkenly through her incredible enchantment.

  "Absolutely," she said, deciding, tactically, to stay where she was for the moment. "Totally fine. Obviously."

  "You were to retreat," said the cat angrily, squatting down and summoning soothing white-gold light to his hands. "Why did you not follow the plan?"

  "I was in charge," she said, whining as her ribs snapped back into place one by one. "You're the one who didn't follow the plan. This is clearly your fault."

  "The plan was for you to crash into the snow, get bitten and nearly torn apart by a vampire? J'zargo does not think this was the plan."

  "Exactly – by your own admission you don't even know what the plan was," she mumbled as the cat moved to her neck, closing the two holes.

  "The small dragon does not seem to be infected with vampirism," he said after waving his hands over her a few more times. "Did you know that the vampire would die if it attempted to feed on you?"

  "Of course," she said. "I am a dragon."

  J'zargo sighed and wobbled to his feet. "J'zargo is going to go and undo your spell anchors. Stay here and rest, your body has undergone severe trauma."

  "I'll take that… under advisement," she said, closing her eyes for a moment.

  When she opened them again she was over the cat's shoulder, trekking further up the gully. Behind her the light of the void portal was down to almost nothing, and it was very, very dark.

  "Unhand me, mortal," she grumbled.

  "Ah, you are awake," said the cat, setting her down. "Good. J'zargo was sick of carrying you anyway."

  The cat set her down onto her unusually shaky legs, putting an arm around her shoulder to steady her before they continued onward.

  The gully narrowed, and after another five minutes they came to a line of nervous looking soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder around a hundred meters out from where the gully became impassable. Behind them were the other refugees, huddled together with terrified looking eyes.

  Eyes that lit up as Caprifexia and the cat came into view.

  "Capri, J'zargo!" said Einar, pushing past the line of soldiers. "Are the vampires gone?"

  "J'zargo the mighty wizard, and his assistant Caprifexia, destroyed them, yes," said the cat. "Although the small one was hurt."

  The line of guards threw down their weapons and hugged one another, and a few moments later a cheer went up from the crowd of refugees. Some of them even cried – the mewling pathetic excuses for lifeforms that they were.

  "Divines!" said Einar, seeing the trail of dried blood on Caprifexia's neck. "They bit you!?"

  "Not so loud," winced Caprifexia, covering one of her ears. "And I'm not your assistant, you terrible-wizard, you're mine."

  "She is without infection," said J'zargo. "Her blood destroyed one of them when it attempted to feed on her."

  "The leader," said Caprifexia smugly. "Who had enchanted armour that he couldn't so much as scratch. Really, I'm the only reason we won."

  "This is 'somewhat' true," admitted J'zargo.

  "It was all part of my brilliant plan, although he was very slow to do his part," explained Caprifexia. "That's why I got hurt in the first place, I had to improvise."

  "That is less true," said J'zargo impudently.

  Thankfully Einar didn't pester her with more questions, instead finding a blanket for her to lie down on and try to forget about how much her everything hurt. Healing magic was good – although J'zargo's wasn't anywhere as near as skilled as Sorbet had been – but even for a magical creature like her it wasn't perfect, and it would take some time for her wounds to settle.

  The rest of the refugees headed back down to their camp, but J'zargo and Einar stayed with her, sorting through the stuff that J'zargo had looted from the vampires.

  "Hey Capri, there is another letter in really, really old Imperial," said Einar after a few minutes. "Up to reading it?"

  "Of course, I am a dragon."

  "Here then," he said, holding the piece of paper in front of her eyes.

  "Lord Sven," she began. "I hope that this letter finds you well sated. As you may know, I recently tasked one of your fledglings, Maria, with researching the location of an Elder Scroll at Winterhold. According to my sources she failed to even make it to the college, so she is likely dead. If she was one of your favoured children, my condolences.

  "As fortune would have it, however, another of my agents has discovered where my wife managed to hide my daughter so many, many years ago. This, in turn, means that we now know the location of the Elder Scroll they took from me: Dimhollow Crypt, a small cave in the mountains to the west of the Pale virtually on top of those pathetic 'Vigilants of Stendar.' In retrospect, that is likely the reason that it has taken this long to locate. I suspect my wife was amused at the thought that she could use those pious mortal fools as a shield.

  "My intelligence indicates that the order has waned significantly in power over the past few centuries, affording us a unique opportunity to not only remove a thorn from our side, but also to retrieve part of what we need for the Ritual of Black Sun. Although weakened, I would still suggest gathering or creating a few more fledglings for the actual assault. Lady Sivvik's fearsome swordplay would also likely prove invaluable, should she be on hand to assist.

  "Once dealt with, enter the crypt and retrieve the scroll. I would once more advise caution, as my wife is unlikely to have left Serana undefended. A few eager-to-please fledglings to send in first is probably the easiest way to identify any traps, although I leave the details of this operation to you. Use your discretion.

  "Although our mercurial, and (you must forgive me for this my friend) flighty ally has assured me that my daughter is unnecessary for her modified ritual, I would nonetheless prefer her to be returned to me unharmed. Although, regrettably, obtaining the Elder Scroll must be our upmost priority. If you must put her down, then so be it.

  "I would also stay out of Windhelm if I were you, I've been told it is to be a 'test' of something relating to the ritual, and that the results would be 'explosive' – whatever that means. There may be refugees, however – so perhaps they might be a possible source of fledglings to throw into my wife's traps? At the very least, it could be amusing to watch if you're nearby.

  "Your King and Friend, Lord Harkon."

  "Wait, the vampire's knew that Windhelm was going to be destroyed?" said Einar. "They summoned the Faceless?"

  "How should I know, I'm just reading the letter," said Caprifexia, pushing the stack of paper back towards him.

  "J'zargo does not like the sound of this 'Ritual of Black Sun,'" said J'zargo. "Not if its 'test' destroyed a city."

  "It was mentioned in that other letter we got," said Einar, rummaging in his coat for a moment before bringing out the letter from the first vampire Caprifexia had heroically slain. "So were the Elder Scrolls – seems this 'King Harkon' really wants one."

  "Then J'zargo thinks we should make sure that this 'King' does not get his claws on one," said J'zargo.

  "We already have a quest – to destroy the proto-drakes," said Caprifexia.

  "J'zargo thinks we should leave that to the dragonborn," said J'zargo.

  Einar cleared his throat awkwardly.

  "What?" asked J'zargo suspiciously.

  "Nothing," said Caprifexia innocently. "I certainly didn't stomp them off a bridge in the Void for their soul to be torn apart, their body broken, and their mind shattered by the Old Gods. That definitely didn't happen. I have no idea why the proto-drake-born is missing. No idea at all. It's a real mystery."

  Einar groaned, and J'zargo bared his fangs.

  "Is the small dragon telling J'zargo that she killed the Dragonborn?" said the khajiite slowly. "The only being in Mundus who can slay the dragons permanently?"

  "No," huffed Caprifexia. "I said that isn't what happened. I said the opposite. Are you deaf? Ears full of fur or something?"

  "It was… an accident," said Einar, clearing his throat and blowing their cover. "But yeah… that's why we're trying to find a way to stop them."

  The cat put his face in his paws, and a moment later, began to scream.

  "Why did you tell him Einar?" said Caprifexia angrily. "Now he's never going to shut up about-"

  "You are the most irresponsible people J'zargo has ever met!" yelled the cat, rudely cutting her off. "It is one thing to kill the Dragonborn, 'accident' or no, but another to say nothing about it to anyone!? You are not heroes, you're menaces!"

  "I technically never claimed to be a hero," said Einar, adjusting his collar nervously.

  "Now look what you've done, the cat is hysterical," said Caprifexia. "Everything was fine until you opened your big mortal mouth."

  "He's not a cat – we've talked about this, and I don't think him being angry the issue here Capri," said Einar.

  "I do," said Caprifexia.

  "You didn't even have to admit to doing it, you could have just told someone!" ranted J'zargo, pulling at his ears. "Anyone at all!"

  "We're telling you now," said Caprifexia. "Calm down."

  "Don't tell J'zargo to calm down!" yelled J'zargo, arcs of lightning surging around his body.

  "Don't tell me what to do!" yelled Caprifexia back, matching his halo with her own.

  The cat took a deep breath and stood up, pacing back and forth in the snow, his tail flicking from side to side as he tried to reign in his wild and out of line mortal emotions.

  "So if J'zargo is understanding things correctly, there are now not only unstoppable dragons rampaging across Tamriel unchecked, but also a horde of organised vampires who have blown up a city and, if the ritual's name is anything to go by, want to possibly do the same to the sun?" said the cat. "And you two thought that the proper course of action was to handle this by yourself?"

  "Um… yes?" said Einar uncertainly. "Actually, saying that out loud, I realise how insane that sounds."

  "I am the greatest hero in the multiverse," explained Caprifexia. "And a dragon. We had everything under control."

  "This is what we are going to do," said J'zargo firmly.

  "You're not in charge-"

  "Shut up!" said the cat, glaring at her and totally ignoring her warning growl. He was lucky she was now a heroic dragon, otherwise he would have been very on fire. "J'zargo will send a letter to the Archmage, detailing the situation: Arcano's theft of the orb and attempted murder of J'zargo, the organised vampires and their plot, and the dragonborn's… 'disappearance.' We will go to this Dimhollow Crypt and find this Elder Scroll before the vampires do. Yes?"

  "Why should we listen to you?" said Caprifexia. "You're just an unusually fluffy mortal!"

  "Because J'zargo seems to be the only adult here," said J'zargo. "And because the small dragon's last 'plan' got nine of her ribs broken. The small dragon is no longer allowed to make plans."

  "I say we focus on killing all the proto-drakes," said Caprifexia. "That sounds much more fun."

  "This is not a vote, and even if it was, you would not get one," said J'zargo. "We are going to Dimhollow. That is what is going to happen."

  "J'zargo's right, we need to get this Elder Scroll first," said Einar. "For all we know, this vampire 'King' could have sent others to look for it. And hey, they're pretty powerful objects – it might help us against the proto-drakes- dammit, the dragons."

  "Fine," said Caprifexia grumpily. "But only because I was going to Dimfollow Crypt anyway-"

  "Dimhollow," corrected Einar, mishearing her.

  "That's what I said."

  A.N. If you like my writing, you might be interested in my fantasy adventure novel – – which is entirely pre-written and with chapters released every Friday!

  Mishka the Great and Powerful that isn't up on Royal Road yet!). However, I don't monetise or time-gate my fanfiction though (plz no sue!).