Western Watchtower, Whiterun Hold

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16th of Sun's Height, 4E 201

I awoke to Irileth unceremoniously kicking my bed at The Bannered Mare, spouting something about never being able to rest easy. I managed to follow her back to Dragonsreach half asleep, and there I heard the news that finished waking me. A dragon was spotted nearby and the Jarl wanted me to take part in killing it! That's how, without much of a choice, I found myself staring into the inferno of a dragon's maw instead of relaxing on a carriage to Winterhold.

If I said the sky rained fire today, I would not be in error. The beast carpeted the field with flames while pelting the guards with blazing volleys from above. I could only think back to Helgen, knowing these men were meeting the same fate. Irileth kept their resolve steeled until the very end, though, and not all was lost. After what felt like hours, it crumpled to the ground. Before I could even release the breath I had not realized was held, I felt the dragon's essence rush into me.

Those that survived witnessed this and called me a Dragonborn of legend. Irileth dismissed the idea, but I knew better. It was Prior Emelene Madrine who claimed that Dragonborn were able to steal the power of the dragons they killed. This one was named Mirmulnir. I knew that from the moment I sensed his soul, just as I knew that the Nords were not wrong about me.

The Wheel has turned and I'm afraid I stand in the center of it all.

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