---
The journey back to Whiterun was a blur.
Thalia stumbled alongside Irileth and the surviving guards, the golden afternoon sun doing little to banish the hollow, electric feeling inside her.
Every step felt heavier — as if she were carrying something unseen.
A few of the guards threw her wary glances, keeping a cautious distance.
She didn't blame them.
Dragonborn.
The word rattled around her head like a pebble in a jar. She didn't know what it meant, only that the moment the dragon died — something ancient had taken root inside her.
And it terrified her.
Whiterun's gates loomed ahead. The guards on duty let them in without question once they saw Irileth leading the group. News had clearly traveled faster than their feet.
Inside, townsfolk were already gathering, murmuring and pointing.
Whispers drifted on the breeze:
"Did you hear? She killed it herself—"
"Absorbed its soul, they said—"
"Dragonborn... could it really be true?"
Thalia clenched her fists, forcing herself to focus. First things first. Report to the Jarl.
---
Dragonsreach's grand halls were no quieter.
When Irileth pushed the doors open, Jarl Balgruuf stood waiting at the foot of his throne, Proventus Avenicci fretting nervously at his side.
Thalia stepped forward stiffly, conscious of every eye in the room.
Balgruuf's sharp gaze assessed her in a glance. His hands were clenched behind his back.
"So it's true," he said slowly. "You defeated the dragon?"
Thalia nodded once, forcing the words past her dry throat. "It's dead. At the Western Watchtower."
Balgruuf's jaw tightened — with relief, Thalia thought.
"And the soul?" he asked, voice dropping lower. "The guards say... you absorbed it."
Thalia grimaced. "I didn't exactly ask for it to happen."
A few of the courtiers chuckled nervously. Balgruuf, to his credit, smiled slightly.
"You don't have to sound guilty about it, warrior," he said. "You've done a great service to Whiterun. Perhaps all of Skyrim."
Thalia shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure what that even means. What is a Dragonborn?"
The Jarl opened his mouth to reply—
—and then the ground trembled beneath their feet.
It was a deep, rolling sound — not from the earth itself, but from the very air.
A voice, ancient and vast, shouted from the distant mountains:
"DOVAHKIIN!"
The word shook the walls of Dragonsreach. Plates rattled. Torches flickered. The banners high above swayed on invisible currents.
The entire hall fell into stunned silence.
Thalia stiffened, lightning instinctively crackling over her fingertips. Every hair on her body stood on end.
"What the Hades was that?" she hissed.
Proventus was pale as a ghost. Even the battle-hardened Irileth looked unsettled.
Balgruuf exhaled slowly, awe and worry mingling in his eyes.
"That," he said, voice heavy with meaning, "was the Greybeards. Calling to you."
"The Greybeards?" Thalia repeated, suspicious.
"They live atop High Hrothgar," the Jarl said. "They are masters of the Voice — of the Thu'um. When they speak, the very world listens."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"They summon you, Dragonborn. It is a great honor. They wish to guide you."
Thalia crossed her arms stubbornly, tension radiating off her.
"I'm not exactly interested in being someone's chosen one," she said bluntly.
Balgruuf chuckled, though there was little humor in it.
"None of us choose our destinies, Thalia. They choose us."
There was something ancient in his tone, something that made Thalia's gut clench.
She wanted to argue. Wanted to walk away.
But deep inside, that strange new power stirred, answering the call from the mountain with a silent pulse.
You are more than you know, it whispered.
Thalia scowled.
"I'll think about it," she said curtly.
Balgruuf nodded, accepting her words without judgment.
"In the meantime, your reward." He gestured, and a guard stepped forward, presenting a heavy leather pouch full of gold.
Thalia took it absently, her mind elsewhere.
"And," Balgruuf added, smiling wryly, "I hereby name you Thane of Whiterun. An honorary title, yes, but one with certain privileges... and responsibilities."
Proventus produced a polished steel badge — the symbol of Whiterun — and handed it over.
"You'll also be assigned a personal housecarl," Balgruuf continued. "Someone to watch your back."
Thalia blinked, half-listening.
A housecarl? Like a royal bodyguard?
She barely had time to process that before Irileth motioned subtly, indicating a young Nord woman with braided hair and proud eyes stepping forward.
"My name is Lydia," she said formally, bowing slightly. "It is my honor to serve you."
Thalia nodded stiffly.
Fantastic. Now I'm responsible for someone else, too.
---
Later, outside Dragonsreach, Thalia leaned against a stone wall, staring out over the sprawling city.
The mountains loomed distant and cold on the horizon.
High Hrothgar. The Greybeards.
The answers she didn't want—but maybe needed.
Thalia sighed and closed her eyes.
"Just one thing after another," she muttered.
Lightning crackled softly over her fingertips in sympathy.
She had a feeling her journey was only just beginning.
And she wasn't sure if she was ready for it.