The story of Skyrim was already different, but one question gnawed at me more than any other: why hadn't the Dragonborn been the one to defeat Alduin? She was supposed to be the chosen hero, the one fated to end the World-Eater's destruction. Yet history here painted a completely different tale.
When I pressed Zavir about it, he only shrugged and lowered his voice, as though speaking of something dangerous."Rumor has it she was a coward," he said. "That when the final battle came, she ran. Vanished. Nobody's seen her since."
The words felt heavy, like they poisoned the air between us. The Dragonborn—running away? That was the sort of thing that shattered the foundation of the Skyrim I thought I knew.
If the Dragonborn could abandon her role, then anything was possible.
My system map flickered in the corner of my vision, still showing Dawnstar as if it were standing strong and proud. But Zavir had just told me the city was nothing but ashes. My map hadn't updated, still clinging to the old narrative. Maybe it would only refresh when I reached a place in person—like how the abandoned Imperial camp appeared once I stumbled into it.
That realization made my situation worse. My original plan had been to resupply in Dawnstar. But now? That wasn't an option. I was on the road with dwindling supplies, and I needed another destination fast.
I turned to Zavir."So… is there any place nearby where I can stock up? I'm headed to Solitude."
The look he gave me wasn't encouraging. He sighed, rubbing at the stubble on his chin before finally answering."The closest city is Morthal. But…" He shook his head. "I wouldn't go there if I were you. Not these days."
Morthal? In the game, it was nothing more than a swampy town with a minor vampire problem. Hardly a place worth avoiding."Really? I thought Morthal was safe," I said.
"It used to be," Zavir replied, his tone grim. "But lately there've been… strange happenings. People falling sick. Some have died. And the disease—whatever it is—it spreads fast."
His eyes darkened when he spoke, and his hand tightened around his ale bottle. The way he spoke of it, I could tell it wasn't just ordinary illness. Something else was at work in Morthal.
Curiosity burned inside me, but reason won out. I wasn't strong enough yet to dive headfirst into a cursed city. That would have to wait.
Zavir must have seen the conflict in my expression, because he leaned forward with a thin smile."There's another place," he said. "Closer than Morthal, and safer too. A small settlement—survivors from the Dawnstar massacre. They call it Thaumkr."
He reached into his pack, pulled out a worn map, and jabbed his finger at a spot tucked between mountains and marsh. The moment he did, my system map shimmered—updating at last.
A new marker appeared: Thaumkr.
A name I'd never seen before. A place not in the game. My chest tightened with anticipation. This was uncharted territory.
"Thaumkr…" I whispered. "I've never heard of it."
"It's not much," Zavir said. "But they've managed to survive. And if you're looking for supplies, it's your best bet."
I bowed my head slightly. "Thank you, Zavir. Truly."
"Think nothing of it, friend," he said with a grin. "But for now, you should rest. Tomorrow you'll need your strength."
I didn't argue. The fire was warm, the night cold, and exhaustion dragged at me. I slipped back into the tent he'd lent me, the canvas smelling faintly of smoke and leather, and let sleep take me.
Morning in Skyrim always felt different—cleaner, sharper, as if the air itself carried a kind of magic. I stirred awake, the bedroll beneath me rough but comfortable enough after yesterday's march.
When I stepped outside, Zavir was nowhere to be seen. Probably already up and about while I lazed behind. I stretched, joints popping, when something small and heavy thudded into my hands. Instinct made me catch it.
A loaf of bread.
I blinked, then turned to see Zavir standing nearby with a smirk."Morning," he said, tossing me a waterskin next.
I caught that too, barely. "Morning, Zavir…"
He sat down on his chair, tearing into his own bread with the hunger of a man who'd lived too long on travel rations. "Sleep well? You were out like a log."
"Thanks to your tent, yes," I replied, taking a long pull of the water. It was cool and refreshing. "Honestly thought you'd already gone hunting."
"Not today." He waved dismissively. "Last time I tried, I barely caught a rabbit. Supplies are running low. That's why I'm heading to Thaumkr too."
I raised a brow. "You're tagging along with me?"
"Of course." He chuckled, the sound echoing in the crisp morning. "Two travelers are safer than one, eh?"
Part of me wanted to argue—I preferred traveling alone. But the truth was, having a guide who knew this changed Skyrim better than I did wasn't something I could pass up.
I sighed, biting into the bread. It was hard on the outside, soft within, still faintly warm from a fire I hadn't noticed. "Fine. We leave after breakfast?"
"Exactly," Zavir said, raising his loaf like a toast. "Pack your things. Thaumkr awaits."
And so, with the morning sun spilling over the mountains and a strange new settlement glowing on my map, we prepared to set out—toward a Skyrim no game had ever shown me.