The man in front of you has no right to rob you of your destiny. That horn rightfully belongs to the one true Turtleborn, and you've come here this day to claim it, regardless of whatever strange script this guy's seemed to memorize.

You swiftly knee the hulking man in his stomach, causing him to drop you to your feet. At least now you're on a more equal footing with your opponent. Let's see how you deal with my true power, you think, inhaling the air in front of you.

"Meep, merp, mu-" you begin to whisper. Suddenly, the man in the horned helmet breathes in deeply and releases the same three thundering words you'd heard him use against the ceiling earlier. Your Whisper is lost in them.

Your body flies upward and back, crashing flatly against the out-stretched finger of the marble statue behind you. The petrified hero's digit pierces your back, travels your heart and emerges through the front of your chest.

Dovahkiin smirks and leaves with his prize. It's four and a half dreadful hours later before you succumb to your wounds and perish.


Mike Kayatta is a contributing news writer for The Escapist and the author of John Gone. Paul Goodman is a loyal editorial assistant at The Escapist. Together, they fight crime.

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