Solstheim's natural scenery gave the first impression of a post-nuclear wasteland. The sky was a dull gray, the air itself seeming soaked in a sandstorm.
In the southern part of the island, ash drifting over from Red Mountain lay everywhere. The wilderness was barren. Chunks of volcanic lava fell from the heavens into the forests, burning every blade of grass and leaf to nothing. Layer upon layer of ash smothered most of the fragile vegetation to death.
"Ah… Red Mountain." Brelyna stood at the bow, gazing into the distance. "It was erupting when I was born, and after all these years, there's still no sign it will ever calm down."
Legend said Red Mountain was where the heart of the god Lorkhan fell. It was also called the Red Tower—one of the world's Towers.
The destruction of Lorkhan's heart was also what kept Red Mountain erupting, turning the once-beautiful, prosperous province of Morrowind into an apocalyptic landscape.
Raven Rock was the main gathering place for the Dunmer on Solstheim, ruled by the great House Redoran. It had once flourished because of ebony mining, and then declined when the ore ran dry. After Red Mountain erupted, agriculture was nearly wiped out as well, and now it relied primarily on the East Empire Company's cargo ships to import grain.
Prices had skyrocketed, jobs were scarce, and the environment was hellishly harsh.
Things got worse by the day. A kind of undead monster called an Ash Spawn was born from the volcanic ash, posing a serious threat to the residents' safety. They would even crawl out of the ashes in grave sites, to the point that people here had to risk their lives just to pay respects to their ancestors. And the East Empire Company was greed without limit—jacking up prices like looters in a disaster, squeezing locals dry through a monopoly on imports.
Everyone who stayed here had their own helpless reasons. Everyone complained—about the disaster, about fate.
The most common plant here was scathecraw, shaped a bit like aloe: crimson, thorny leaves, mildly poisonous and bitter to the taste—bitter, just like the locals' lives.
The North Sea Ghost docked at the pier. A local official, Second Councilor Adril Arano, stood on the shore and immediately made contact with the Winterhold group from Skyrim.
"State your purpose, outsiders." Adril spoke with Skyl, who wore a captain's hat, his eyes repeatedly flicking to the Dunmer sailors on the deck.
Brelyna stepped forward and took over the conversation, explaining that she was one of Winterhold's leaders and had come to Raven Rock to do business.
"Winterhold? Didn't that place collapse? Raven Rock's ebony mines are already exhausted—there's nothing useful for you to find here. Or are you planning to do what the East Empire Company does and wring a profit out of us?"
"The College has rebuilt Winterhold. And Raven Rock's valuable resources go far beyond ebony." Brelyna's voice stayed measured. "The College doesn't care about money—we care about people. My fellow Dunmer, in hard times we should watch each other's backs. You can doubt our motives, but time will prove the friendship of Winterhold."
Adril's expression shifted. "Your accent sounds like Vvardenfell."
Brelyna gave a restrained nod. "I'm from House Telvanni."
Outsiders might not understand what the name Telvanni meant among the Dunmer. In truth, modern Morrowind was ruled by a council formed from five great Houses, and Telvanni was one of them—practically the peerage.
But the moment she said Telvanni, locals around them instinctively curled their lips. Someone muttered under their breath, "Perfect. Another relative of that old madman Neloth."
House Telvanni was a mage House, and Neloth was one of the very top among them.
His mastery of magic was deep beyond imagining. Even Winterhold's Arch-Mage, Savos Aren, would be little more than an apprentice in front of him.
But everyone knew what spellcasters were like: Neloth was arrogant, eccentric, obsessed with bizarre experiments, and constantly caused trouble. People living nearby feared him and hated him in equal measure.
Skyl had traveled all this way to Solstheim, and he very much wanted to deal with Neloth too. A living antique of a mage—whatever knowledge sat in that mind was a genuine treasure trove.
Adril agreed to let the outsiders move around Raven Rock, while also warning them not to try any dangerous tricks. House Redoran's guards were everywhere, and they would be watching their every move.
The North Sea Ghost left part of its sailors at the docks. The others scattered through the settlement to observe Raven Rock, evaluating the local social conditions and natural resources.
Raven Rock's architecture could be called unique—like great beetles. Most buildings were buried into the ground, and the tallest structure in town was the Temple.
The Temple also served as a cemetery. Dunmer typically practiced cremation, and the ashes were buried in ash pits beneath the Temple.
The Dunmer members of the group all visited the Temple. Lady Moonshadow walked into the solemn hall where the Dunmer's traditional faith was honored: the Reclamations—Azura, Mephala, and Boethiah. Azura's shrine was on the eastern side. Moonshadow stood before her own shrine, smiling in a very strange way.
The Temple's leader was the respected elder Othreloth, who enthusiastically preached the faith of the Reclamations.
"May Azura, Mephala, and Boethiah guide you."
Moonshadow nodded. "Of course."
It was clear she was in a good mood.
But it soured quickly. Othreloth spoke of the Ash Spawn ravaging ancestral tombs. For now, no one knew their true cause, but their bodies seemed to be a mixture of cremains and volcanic ash—shaped like melted wax figures, yet capable of spellcasting and combat.
"I hate undead," Moonshadow said.
She personally entered the tombs and wiped out the Ash Spawn crawling out of the ash pits.
Across Solstheim, the Ash Spawn could never be killed off completely. Even if you shattered them for the time being, after some time they would revive under the influence of some strange force.
Aranea felt sorrow for her people's suffering. "Lady Moonshadow… do you know what causes these Ash Spawn?"
"They're the phantoms the dead leave behind in this world—fragments of memory. Shards of Lorkhan's heart grant those memories a soul-like substance. Cremains and dust gather around that soul, and the Ash Spawn is born."
Shards of Lorkhan's heart fell to Solstheim along with the erupting lava from Red Mountain. This special substance that carried divinity held unfathomable power.
Brelyna's expression moved. "Maybe we can work with the locals—buy these special minerals from them. Raven Rock rose because of mining in the first place. These people are miners and the descendants of miners. If they can sell this new ore, maybe the local economy can revive."
She pulled out her phone and contacted Skyl, sharing her idea.
"Solstheim's wilderness is dangerous," Skyl replied. "The locals might not be willing."
"There are always more solutions than problems, aren't there?" Brelyna decided to negotiate with the local rulers properly. Raven Rock was built on mining; the people here were skilled miners and their descendants. As long as their safety could be guaranteed, they would absolutely be willing to make a living by digging.
Skyl wasn't interested in the Temple. He and a few companions passed through Raven Rock and came to a mysterious stone altar southwest of the port.
A crowd of townsfolk had gathered there—commoners, nobles, even guards—swinging hammers and chisels without rest, building around the stone as if trapped in a nightmare. They muttered apocalyptic prophecies and spoke of "his" return.
The Dragonborn felt a chill crawl up his spine. "Are they possessed?"
"They're being controlled by Miraak." Skyl stared at the stone, but what popped into his head was Yuri from Red Alert.
Dumbledore stared at the altar as well, experimentally raising his hand.
"Expecto Patronum."
A Patronus Charm from the Harry Potter world summoned a silver phoenix. Its radiance scattered Miraak's wicked magic, and the townsfolk under mind control began to wake one after another.
The stone altar shuddered violently.
A low, cold voice echoed through the air: "Whoever dares hinder my return will sink into death! My loyal servant—rise from the black deep waters and kill these ignorant mortals!"
A terrifying lurker surfaced from the deep pool by the stone. Its hide looked like twisted armor. The evil magical aura it carried made people shiver—like a huge nightmare-creature that should only exist in the deepest, darkest dreams. The newly awakened townsfolk screamed in terror at the sight of it.
Miraak's gaze fell upon them, and his arrogant laughter rang through the air.
"Foolish, ignorant mortals, thinking you can resist fate. I have already written the ending into your destiny…"
Then a bolt of lightning shattered the lurker, and that unrestrained laughter cut off mid-breath.
The enormous monster didn't survive even a single exchange under the mages' group beating. It hadn't even finished its entrance pose before it became a dead fish.
For a moment, the air turned very quiet.
"So that's what it was," the Dragonborn shrugged, getting hard-carried by the gods. "Just some nobody."
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