Metalborn in Skyrim

Kael leaned back against the straw mattress, his arms folded behind his head as he stared at the dim ceiling of the small village house. The faint crackle of the hearth in the next room was the only sound, a quiet comfort after the chaos of the day. His muscles ached from the fight, but his mind refused to settle. The memory of the Hagraven's screech and the gruesome altar weighed heavily on him.

He had done what he could, but the unease lingered. The journal he had taken from the Forsworn camp sat beside him, its contents still gnawing at his thoughts. A summoning ritual powered by so many sacrifices—it wasn't just horrifying; it was calculated. Coordinated, even. The Forsworn weren't mere raiders. This was something larger.

Kael closed his eyes, forcing himself to rest. Tomorrow, he would head back to Whiterun and report to the Jarl. He would ensure the warning didn't stop there.

The next morning, Kael stood at the edge of the village, tightening the straps of his pack. Dain was busy saddling a sturdy brown horse, a smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced at Kael.

"You're really just going to leap your way back to Whiterun?" Dain asked, amused. "Some of us like keeping both feet on the ground."

Kael chuckled faintly, rolling a steel coin between his fingers. "The horse is too slow. I'll see you there."

Dain shook his head, mounting his horse with ease. "Fine, but try not to get yourself killed on the way. I can't have the Jarl thinking I let his messenger fall out of the sky."

Kael smirked, placing a steel coin on the ground. "I'll be fine. Safe travels."

With that, Kael burned steel, pushing off the coin and launching himself forward. He soared through the air, the cold wind biting at his face, before placing another coin mid-flight and repeating the motion. The leapfrogging pattern allowed him to cross the plains at an incredible pace, the rolling hills and scattered trees blurring beneath him.

By midday, Dragonsreach came into view, its wooden beams and towering spires standing proudly against the sky. Kael landed gracefully just outside the city gates, brushing the dirt from his cloak. The guards glanced at him curiously but said nothing as he passed. His reputation was beginning to precede him, and he was grateful for the lack of questions.

Before heading to Dragonsreach, Kael made a stop at Warmaiden's. The forge roared with life, Adrianne Avenicci working tirelessly on a glowing blade at the anvil. Inside, Ulfberth War-Bear stood behind the counter, organizing a set of newly forged daggers.

Ulfberth greeted Kael with a familiar grin. "Back so soon? What can we do for you this time?"

Kael placed a pouch of coins on the counter and nodded toward a collection of raw iron and steel ingots. "I need more beads. Iron and steel—small, like the ones you made before. I used up most of my stock."

Ulfberth raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "No problem. Adrianne's gotten faster at these since last time. We'll have them ready by tonight."

Kael counted out the payment and gave a curt nod. "Thanks. I'll pick them up later."

Inside Dragonsreach, the familiar warmth of the great hall welcomed him. Jarl Balgruuf sat on his throne, flanked by Irileth, his ever-watchful housecarl. Kael approached the dais, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor.

"Kael?" Balgruuf said, his brow furrowed. "You've returned already?"

Kael nodded, setting the journal on the map table near the throne. "The Forsworn camp has been dealt with. Their Hagraven is dead, and I found this in their tent. It details plans for a summoning ritual."

Balgruuf exchanged a stunned glance with Irileth. "Dealt with? Already?" he said, disbelief coloring his tone. "You were supposed to just be starting your investigation."

Kael exhaled slowly, leaning against the table. "I have my ways….when I got there I took a more direct approach. The threat isn't entirely gone though. The Forsworn are scattered, and there are more camps out there. This journal…" He tapped the leather cover. "It worries me. The ritual required a massive amount of life force. Judging by the number of bones in that camp, they've already sacrificed dozens, maybe more."

Irileth stepped forward, her crimson eyes narrowing as she studied the journal. "What were they trying to summon?"

Kael shook his head. "I don't know. The writing is erratic—descriptions of power, vengeance, and rebirth, but nothing concrete. Whatever it was, it would've been powerful. My bigger concern is whether this is isolated to one camp or part of a larger effort."

Balgruuf's expression hardened, and he leaned back in his throne. "If the Forsworn are coordinating across territories, this could threaten more than just Whiterun's borders."

Irileth nodded sharply. "Jarl, I suggest reaching out to the other Jarls—Markarth especially. The Forsworn territory overlaps with their hold. They must be made aware."

Balgruuf turned to Kael. "You've done us a great service. But I need one more thing from you."

Kael straightened, his expression wary. "What is it?"

"I need you to deliver a message to Jarl Igmund in Markarth," Balgruuf said. "He must be informed of what you found. We can't afford to assume this was an isolated incident."

Kael didn't even blink before nodding. "I'll do it."

Balgruuf's expression softened slightly. "You can name your price, within reason. This is no small task."

Kael shook his head firmly. "No payment necessary."

The Jarl raised an eyebrow. "No payment?"

Kael's voice took on a sharper edge, a flicker of anger in his tone. "If the Forsworn are kidnapping and killing people from the surrounding villages, being able to help stop that is payment enough. What they're doing is sick, and it's better for everyone if they didn't exist. I'll deliver the message because it's the right thing to do—not for coin."

Balgruuf studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Very well. Your sense of duty is admirable, Kael."

Kael inclined his head slightly, stepping back from the throne. "One more thing. There's someone coming from Rorikstead—a man named Dain. He helped me with the Forsworn camp and should arrive tomorrow. He'll need lodging."

Balgruuf glanced at Irileth, who gave a subtle nod. "I'll have the guards keep an eye out for him," the Jarl said. "He'll be taken care of."

"Thank you," Kael said. He turned to leave but paused at the top of the stairs leading to the hall's entrance. "If this is part of something larger… we need to stop it before it spreads."

Balgruuf nodded grimly. "We will do our very best to. Safe travels, Kael."

As Kael descended the steps, Balgruuf's voice called after him. "Kael, before you go, there's one more thing. You've earned the reward that you asked for. Speak to Farengar. He may have something that could aid you in your travels."

The court mage's study smelled faintly of burning herbs, and the surfaces of his workspace shimmered with glowing runes and enchanted tools. Scrolls and tomes were stacked in precarious piles, with the occasional magical artifact scattered among them. Farengar Secret-Fire was hunched over one such pile, a quill moving furiously across a sheet of parchment.

"Ah, a visitor," Farengar said, barely glancing up. "The Jarl told me to expect you. Something about aiding a man who seems to defy ordinary explanations?"

Kael smirked faintly. "Something like that. I was hoping you could teach me about magic."

Farengar's quill paused mid-stroke, and he straightened, his eyes lighting up with interest. "Magic, you say? Interesting. Do you have any prior experience?"

"None," Kael admitted. "But I'd like to understand it. I've seen enough to know it's a force worth learning about."

Farengar stood, brushing his hands on his robes before motioning Kael closer. "Magic is the lifeblood of this world, flowing through every living thing. For those with the gift, it can be harnessed and shaped. The first step is to feel it within yourself. Close your eyes."

Kael hesitated, then did as instructed. He stood still, his breathing steady, as Farengar's calm voice guided him. "Focus on your breathing. Quiet your mind. Feel the flow of life within you—the hum of magicka."

At first, Kael felt nothing. The silence stretched, and frustration began to creep in. But then, faintly, like the whisper of a breeze against his skin, he felt it—a subtle tingle deep within his chest. It was faint, almost ephemeral, but undeniably there.

"I feel… something," Kael murmured, his voice low.

Farengar smiled, pleased. "Good. That's a start. Magicka is like a muscle—it must be trained and strengthened. You won't be casting fireballs overnight, but with discipline, you can shape it into something tangible. Let's begin with something simple."

Farengar handed Kael a novice spell tome. "Read this. It contains a basic flame spell. Let's see if you can channel your magicka into a controlled form."

Kael opened the tome, the ancient symbols almost seeming to shift and rearrange themselves as he read. The words flowed into his mind, a strange mixture of logic and instinct guiding him as he tried to understand the spell. Farengar stood nearby, offering tips and encouragement as Kael attempted to summon even the faintest spark.

The process was slow and awkward, Kael's frustration building with each failed attempt. But Farengar was patient, his instructions steady. Finally, Kael felt a shift—the magicka within him seemed to surge, and a tiny flicker of flame appeared in his palm. It danced briefly before sputtering out, but it was enough.

Farengar clapped his hands together. "Excellent! For a beginner, that's no small feat. Keep practicing, and you'll soon grasp more complex spells."

Kael extinguished the lingering warmth on his fingertips, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you."

Farengar waved him off with a grin. "A pleasure to teach someone so eager. And who knows? This knowledge may prove invaluable in your travels. If you have further questions, my door is always open."

Kael left Whiterun before sunrise, his steel pushing allowing him to cover vast distances in record time. Each leap carried him closer to Markarth, the city of stone nestled in the cliffs of the Reach. As the wind whipped past him, Kael's resolve hardened. The Forsworn wouldn't stop unless someone stopped them first, and he intended to ensure they never succeeded in their dark plans.