I woke up inside my friend's video game

The cool air of Solitude washed over me as Jayson and I descended the worn stone steps of Castle Dour. The weight of our recent discoveries clung to us like a shroud, heavy and inescapable, even as the bustling energy of the city below tried to pull us back into the rhythm of everyday life. The distant chatter of merchants and the clatter of footsteps on cobblestone streets did little to ease the tension tightening in my chest.

"Come on, Jayson," I said, clapping him on the shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Let's drown our sorrows in a tankard of mead at the Winking Skeever. We could use the break."

Jayson gave me a sidelong glance, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just like before that storm struck, huh?" His voice carried the weight of our situation, a stark reminder of how we got transported here in Skyrim.

"Oh, come on now!" I countered, forcing humor into my words. "Besides, I've got a feeling you could use a drink or two. Might even help you think straight about this whole Dark Brotherhood mess."

He chuckled softly, but the sound was strained, hollow. "You might be right about that."

As we made our way toward the Winking Skeever, the sun dipped low behind the mountains, casting long shadows across the city. The warmth of the tavern beckoned us like an old friend, its golden light spilling into the street, promising refuge from the cold and the weight of our troubles.

Pushing through the heavy wooden door, the familiar scent of roasted meats and the low murmur of conversation greeted us. The Skeever was as lively as ever, a mix of locals and travelers filling the tables, their laughter and chatter a comforting hum against the storm brewing in my mind.

I spotted Belrand sitting alone at a corner table, nursing a drink. His usual gruff demeanor was softened by quiet contemplation—something I didn't often see in him. It was a clear sign that the gravity of our situation wasn't lost on him either.

"Belrand," I called out, sliding into the seat across from him. Jayson took the spot beside me, his movements slow, almost reluctant.

Belrand looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed us. "Nikolai. My Thane." His gruff voice carried a note of concern. "You two look like you've been to Oblivion and back."

"Feels like it too," I replied, signaling the tavern maid for a round of drinks. "But we're still here, and that's what matters."

The crackling fire and the gentle murmur of patrons provided a temporary refuge. My gaze drifted across the room, landing on a bard near the hearth. A young man with a lute slung over his shoulder, his fingers deftly plucking at the strings. The familiar tune of "The Age of Oppression" filled the air, a somber melody echoing the struggles of the land.

The mead flowed warm and sweet, mingling with the smoky scent of the fire. The bard's voice, rich and resonant, wove a tale of rebellion and defiance.

"We drink to our youth, to the days come and gone..."

I smiled, a bittersweet twist to my lips. The melody, once a mere soundtrack to my virtual adventures, now resonated with newfound depth. The words, once just pixels on a screen, carried the weight of reality.

We were truly inside Skyrim.

"For the age of oppression is now nearly done..."

The fire cast dancing shadows on the faces around me—Titus and Aldis, their youthful features etched with newfound determination; Jordis, her stoic expression barely masking a flicker of hope. And me, caught between the camaraderie of the present and the nostalgia of the past.

"We'll drive out the Empire from this land that we own..."

The bard's voice swelled with passion. I glanced at my friends, their expressions a mix of resolve and longing. We were Imperials now, bound by duty and honor. Yet the song's defiant spirit stirred something deep within me, a yearning for freedom, for a land unburdened by the Empire's chains.

"With our blood and our steel, we will take back our home..."

The mead blurred the lines between game and reality. The faces around me, once mere NPCs, were now flesh and blood, their struggles as real as my own. The song's chorus swelled, a battle cry that resonated with the spirit of rebellion simmering beneath Skyrim's surface.

"All hail to Ulfric, you are the High King..."

I closed my eyes, the mead's sweetness turning bitter. Ulfric—hero of the Stormcloaks, symbol of defiance against the Empire. His name, once a rallying cry in my virtual battles, now carried a different weight. We were on the other side now, fighting for the Empire's cause. Yet, part of me couldn't help but admire the passion, the unwavering belief in a free Skyrim.

"In your great honor, we drink and we'll sing..."

The bard's voice softened, the melody melancholic. The fire crackled, mirroring the flickering uncertainty in my heart. We were caught in a war not of our choosing, fighting for a cause that wasn't entirely our own.

"We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives..."

I opened my eyes. The bard's words echoed—a haunting reminder of the sacrifices ahead. We were soldiers now, bound by duty. But were we truly fighting for Skyrim, or for the Empire that sought to control it?

"And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies..."

The mead's warmth turned cold in my stomach. Death, once a mere inconvenience in the game, now held a terrifying finality. The thought of losing my friends—or never seeing Nica again—sent a shiver down my spine.

The bard's final chords hung in the air, a bittersweet melody of loss and hope. I raised my tankard, my gaze meeting Jayson's across the table. The Legion-Stormcloak conflict bred nothing but bloodshed.

Jayson's silence was thick with unspoken thoughts, his gaze fixed on the worn wooden surface as if it held the answers he sought.

Belrand's gravelly voice cut through the quiet. "The Dark Brotherhood ain't no laughing matter. Whatever you're thinking, my Thane, you'd better not be risking your life."

Jayson lifted his head, steel in his gaze. "I know how dangerous it is, Belrand. That's exactly why I have to do this. I can't risk bringing anyone else into it. Especially since we still don't know anything about Erica and the others."

His words hung heavy. The memory of her fueled his determination.

I reached across the table, gripping his forearm. "Jayson, you don't have to shoulder this alone. We're a team. We've faced worse together."

He shook his head. "No, Nikolai. I can't let Nica get separated from you. You wouldn't want that, right? I've made my decision. I'll handle the Dark Brotherhood. You need to focus on warning Pyeath Shadowthorn. That's where you can make the biggest difference. This isn't like those wolves we fought back in Whiterun."

I sighed, frustration bubbling up. But the look in his eyes stopped me. There was fear there—not for himself, but for us.

"Damn it, Jayson," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "You're too damn stubborn."

He cracked a small, sad smile. "Someone's got to be."

I lifted my tankard in mock toast. "To stubborn friends and the messes they drag us into."

Jayson and Belrand raised theirs as well, the clink of our drinks a hollow sound in the midst of our grim reality.

As we drank in silence, the warmth of the mead did little to ease the chill in my bones. A lingering sense of foreboding gnawed at me—this might be one of our last moments of peace before the storm truly hit. Despite everything, I knew one thing for certain: no matter what, I would be there for Jayson, just as he had been for me. Even if it meant defying his orders in the end.

The mead warmed my throat as I swallowed, and I couldn't resist breaking the heavy silence that had settled over us. "So," I began with a forced chuckle, "how exactly do we track down this Pyeath Shadowthorn? Maybe he's taken up residence under a nearby rock, masquerading as an especially irritable horker?"

Belrand let out a low grunt, a faint glimmer of amusement flickering across his weathered features. "If only it were that straightforward, lad," he replied, his voice gruff yet tinged with wryness. "We're dealing with phantoms here, not lost sheep."

Jayson remained quiet, his eyes staring into the distance, lost in thought. The news of the assassination attempt weighed heavily on his mind. Reaching across the rough-hewn table, I gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We'll find a way through this, Jayson," I said, my voice steady and firm. "We always do."

He blinked, slowly returning to the present. With a deep breath, he nodded, a flicker of determination rekindling in his gaze. "Yes," he agreed, his voice resolute. "We always do."

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen," I said, pushing back my chair with a clink, "nature calls." Stepping into the crisp night air, the cobblestone streets glistened under the dim moonlight. The raucous laughter and clinking of tankards from within the Winking Skeever felt like a distant world as I sought a quiet corner in the shadows. The cool stone wall pressed against my back as I sighed in relief.

As I turned to head back inside, my gaze fell upon a peculiar marking on the wall. Faint, almost lost in the dappled moonlight, but unmistakably there—A Shadowmark.

My heart skipped a beat. The Thieves Guild? Here in Solitude? I rushed back inside, grabbing Jayson by the arm. "You need to see this," I said, my voice urgent.

We huddled around the marking, its message clear as day to me. I'd played the Thieves Guild storyline countless times, memorized every detail of the Shadowmarks. But now, standing in the world of the game I once played, it felt surreal.

"Protected," Jayson murmured, his voice hushed. "This means someone here is under the Thieves Guild's protection."

I stared at him in surprise. "You know the Shadowmarks?" I thought he despised the Thieves Guild path in Skyrim.

"This changes things," Belrand muttered, his brow furrowed. "But who?"

We exchanged uneasy glances. This discovery added another layer of complexity to our already tangled situation. We had to find out who was connected to the Thieves Guild here in Solitude.

The hidden entrance loomed before us, shrouded in darkness, the scent of damp earth mingling with the musty air clinging to the cavern walls. Every step echoed in the silence, the crunch of our boots against gravel a reminder of how close we were to the unknown. The air was thick with tension—every shadow a potential threat, every breath a measured effort to remain calm. The flicker of torchlight barely illuminated our path, leaving much to the imagination.

Figures emerged from the darkness, their forms wrapped in the familiar black hoods of the Thieves Guild. My heart skipped a beat as they stepped forward, weapons drawn, faces obscured, the threat of violence hanging heavy in the air.

"Hold it right there!" A sharp, commanding voice rang out, slicing through the tension like a blade.

Jayson stepped forward, his posture relaxed yet unmistakably authoritative. "We're not here to cause trouble," he declared, his voice steady, carrying a calm resolve that belied the danger surrounding us. He met their unseen gazes with unwavering determination.

A tense silence followed, thick enough to make my skin prickle. Then, from the group of thieves, a figure emerged, hood drawn low, concealing their identity.

"Why are you here?" The voice was muffled, almost ghostly, yet something about it teased the edge of my memory.

Jayson and I exchanged a glance—this required delicate handling. "We noticed the Shadowmarks outside your entrance," I said, my tone calm yet edged with the seriousness of our mission.

The hooded figure hesitated, stance rigid. Then, with slow, deliberate motion, they reached up and lowered their hood.

Recognition slammed into me. The sharp, angular features, the intense gaze— "Karliah?!" I blurted, shock and disbelief tumbling from my lips.

Relief coursed through me. Karliah, the Nightingale, the Dunmer I met in Malik's house back in Whiterun—someone we could trust. Her eyes softened, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. She raised a hand, signaling her companions to lower their weapons. "It's okay," she said, her voice calm and authoritative. "You can lower yours too, Jayson."

Tension dissolved like morning mist. Jayson stepped closer, grinning. "Thanks for the meal back in Whiterun," he said, remembering the Dunmer who had broken into Malik's house.

Karliah nodded, her expression knowing. "It was the least I could do for disturbing a friend. I believe this is the first time we truly speak."

Her gaze turned serious. "What brings you here, to a place where few dare to tread?"

Jayson and I exchanged another look. "We've had trouble with the Dark Brotherhood," I began. "We're looking for someone—a man named Pyeath Shadowthorn. He's in danger, and we need to find him before they do."

Jayson explained the Black Sacrament contract, the ominous list of targets, and our desperate mission. Karliah listened intently, nodding in understanding.

"So, you've come all this way to save our Guild Master's life," Karliah said, respect in her voice. "Wait—your Guild Master?" I asked.

Karliah nodded gravely. "Pyeath's in Riften. He's been rebuilding the Thieves Guild after dealing with the traitor I told you about."

"I assume he dealt with Mercer?" I asked. Karliah's brief look of surprise confirmed my knowledge of the game's lore, but there was no time for explanations.

Who would have thought—Pyeath was connected to Karliah.

We prepared to leave for Riften at dawn, but Jayson pulled me aside, his expression grave.

"Nikolai," he said, voice low. "I need you to go to Riften and lead my party."

"What? Why?"

"The Dark Brotherhood. They're dangerous—more than you can imagine. I can't let you risk your life, not when you've just reunited with Nica."

His words stung, but I understood. Still, I couldn't let him face them alone. "We're in this together, Jayson."

He shook his head. "I have to do this alone. You need to warn Pyeath. He might be our only hope."

Torn, I finally nodded. "Be careful, Jayson. And come back to us."

He smiled sadly, squeezing my shoulder. "I will. Just take care of my party for me."

At dawn, Jayson was gone, leaving behind only a note.

"To my trusted companions,

I've embarked on a solitary mission to confront the Dark Brotherhood. It's a dangerous path, one I must tread alone to protect you all. Nikolai will lead you to Riften, where you'll meet with Pyeath Shadowthorn. He may hold the key to unraveling this conspiracy.

Trust Nikolai's judgment and follow his lead. Stay together, stay alert, and most importantly, stay alive. I'll rejoin you soon. Until then, may the Divines watch over you.

Your Thane,

Jayson"

As I finished reading the note for everyone, a somber silence fell over our group. The words echoed in the stillness, each of us absorbing the magnitude of what lay ahead. Jordis, ever the fierce protector, clenched her fists at her sides, her frustration clear in the tight line of her jaw. But when she spoke, her voice was resolute, her loyalty unwavering.

"Thane or not, I swear my blade and my life to you, Nikolai," Jordis said, her ice-blue eyes locking onto mine with a fierce intensity. "Jayson has placed his trust in you, and so will I. Whatever comes, we'll face it together."

The others; Aldis, Titus, and Belrand nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of determination and worry. I could see the weight of responsibility settling on each of them, but there was also a spark of resolve in their eyes. They understood the risks, the dangers that awaited us in Riften, but they were ready to face them head-on. Together.

I folded the letter carefully and tucked it away, feeling the gravity of the task Jayson had entrusted to me. Leading this group—my friends, my comrades—was an honor, but it was also a burden I would not take lightly. The road ahead would be fraught with peril, but we would not falter.

With a final glance at Solitude, its tall spires silhouetted against the morning sky, together with Karliah, we turned and began our journey. The cobblestones beneath our feet felt like the first steps into the unknown, each one carrying us further from the safety of the city and closer to the heart of the conspiracy that threatened all of Skyrim.

The air was crisp, our breaths forming small clouds as we made our way down the winding road. The sounds of the city faded behind us, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds. Yet, despite the natural beauty that surrounded us, there was a heaviness that pressed down with every step. The path to Riften would be long, and the challenges we would face there, even greater. But with Jayson's words guiding us and the determination of my companions beside me, I knew we were ready. 

We set off, our hearts heavy with the weight of what lay ahead but filled with the unwavering determination to see our mission through. Riften awaited, and with it, the answers we so desperately sought.